Fire in the Blood
by Hurlstien
Summary: Shamed and cast out from those who saved him, Bane is left to wander the world alone. There were many things he had expected to face by living such a life, but a young girl swearing her loyalty to him was not one of them. "When your life is in danger, all is permitted - even murder." [Bane/OC]
1. Chapter 1

_The Dark Knight Series_ © **Christopher Nolan  
**_Fire in the Blood _© **Hurlstien**

A/N: This story will follow The Dark Knight canon, but will include little bits of detail from the comics as supplement material. It will also bounce between past and present, text in italics is present and normal text is past.

However, _speech_ in italics is said in Georgian, otherwise it is English – only applies to the second half of this chapter. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Ḟirḝ iṇ tḣḝ Ḃloṓḑ**

…

– **1 –**

_When Bane returns to the hideout, Feo knows he's been successful – n__ot that she'd ever doubted him. A group of ten mercenaries are with him, she notes, and they walk with confidence, AK47s glinting in their hands while Bane remains at the back, his hands hooked over the lip of his bulletproof vest, mask and frame marking him clearly._

___In their midst is an unfamiliar man, his hands bound. _One of the mercenaries nudges him in the back with the nozzle of his gun when he walks too slowly. He is tanned, with greying hair and creases in his skin. His jaw is tight and _his eyes show fear _while his dishevelled suit screamed hostage. This must be Dr. Pavel.

_Feo abandons her work on the electric cables she'd been bent over, and crosses the wide chamber with its low ceiling. Her dirty, navy dungarees are baggy around her legs and ruffle when she walks, the top half hanging down at the hip, tarnished buckles banging lightly against her knees while oil stains on her black fitted shirt shine in the light._

_"Did you enjoy your three day jaunt?" she asks as she approaches Bane. The words are hard to keep down, as though the happiness she feels is a volcano erupting at the base of her throat, forcing the syllables up through her cage of grinning teeth and curling lips. "We've missed you around here."_

_He doesn't need to see her smile; he can hear it in her voice. Bane glances at her as the men with guns disperse, two escorting Pavel away at his order. "I'd hardly call being shot at and crashing planes a holiday." His voice is light, musical and refined, like a jolly Englishman._

_Feo wrestles to hide her smile, trying to return to her serious side. She swallows when she finds it hard. "So, that is him?" she looks to the dark haired man with a gun at his back being led away and into the depths of a gloomy corridor._

_"Yes," says Bane, "Not much to look at, but if what Talia says is true he will prove useful."_

_Feo can't help but frown at the name as they begin to walk. "You still haven't told me why we need him."_

_"All in good time, my dear."_

_"What if he refuses?"_

_"Refuses what?"_

_"Whatever you ask of him."_

_"There are ways of making people do what you want, you know this," Bane says. "Every man has his breaking point."_

_They descend a flight of stone steps, and follow the corridor round to a large square chamber cut off from the hallway by a tatty curtain. A bed with a thin mattress is pushed up into the corner with a bedside table next to it, while a single cabinet and chest of drawers occupy their own walls. There is not much furniture; it is clutter that makes the room seem full; notebooks, pens, books, DVDs and video tapes are stacked and piled atop each other. A laptop is sat closed on the bed and bits of wire and electrical components are left out on the dresser, along with scrawlings of machinery designs and mechanisms._

_"What happened to Jared?" she asks as they approach a small table with two crates either side in the center of the room. "I know you left with eleven men, not ten – Tea?"_

_Bane nods once and sits down on one of the boxes. "Unfortunately, the CIA were told there would be one of my men on board. So when we crashed the plane someone had to go down with it."_

_There is a kettle on the cabinet top behind Feo and she flicks the switch, grabbing two mugs and teabags from the cupboard below. She keeps quiet about Jared's sacrifice. All the men under Bane's command are ready and willing to lay down their lives for his cause, she knows this. But that still means they are one man down from yesterday._

_"There was an attack just after you left," Feo begins, tracing the lip of her mug with a dirty finger. "I went out with a team to Babakalan for supplies, but ever since the screw up there last time," she fights not to swallow, "the CIA has been watching that place like hawks."_

_Bane doesn't blink, just stares at the small table in front of him while the kettle boils._

_"We were ambushed, and Kamil was cut off from us and trapped. He shot himself in the head."_

_There is a small silence, broken when the kettle's switch flicks back hard. Feo turns to pour the tea._

_"And how do you know this?" he asks, though he has a good idea._

_"I was there."_

_Bane chuckles; a rather rare sound for any of the mercenaries inhabiting the hideout, but to Feo, it is something she has missed. "Your talent for invisibility is fast becoming famous."_

_Pride swells in her chest as she adds sugar and passes Bane his steaming mug._

_"They're on to us," Feo says, taking a seat on the opposite crate and cradling her drink, "I doubt we have long before they find out about this place. And I'm wary of another of our supply squads going into Babakalan again – the CIA are still snooping around, and they're watching the roads."_

_"Mm." Bane doesn't seem worried. "No matter, we have objectives elsewhere." He reaches up to remove his mask._

_Feo's gaze focuses on the tea in her hands as she blows on it. Three seconds, then she cannot help but peek. She already knows the light scar striking across the top of his upper lip. It is something she has felt beneath her own lips before. Nothing unsightly, but it is the knowledge of how he received it that troubles her. At least he is able to remove the mask temporarily in order to eat and drink, but he cannot do so for long._

_"Is this to do with that Daggett guy?" she asks, "What does he want, more diamonds?"_

_"Not quite." His voice, now free from the confinement of his mask, is clear and rich and deep. "Inform Barsad we're leaving and to have the men ready to move by the end of the week."_

_Feo frowns and her head comes up. "Where to?"_

_"Gotham city."_

* * *

**.Ѻ.**

* * *

She didn't see much. Last thing she knew she had hit a wall and was slumped on the ground with a throbbing headache, head bleeding and arm twisted. She didn't see much of anything.

But she remembered a man as big as a bull. Thick combat boots, bald head… and a mask.

Then another, a lean brute with tattoos swirling along his arms. Wife beater and dirty sports cap. He smelt of cigarettes and sweat. She remembered him grabbing her, his grip strong and hard. His eyes were a steely grey as he'd spat words at her, accusations of thievery.

It was raining too, wasn't it? She thought she blinked, but she couldn't be sure.

_'Would he really have missed a loaf of bread that much?'_ she wondered, her thoughts echoing through her head as the pain slowly ebbed along with her awareness. Then there was a faint fizzle of confusion._ 'Where did the bread go?'_

The distinct shift of gravity almost pulled her back to clarity, but she gave up trying to reawaken, preferring the numb darkness to light and pain.

...

_"You count the seconds between the lightening and the thunder, Feore. If the seconds are getting fewer, the storm is getting closer. If the seconds are increasing, the storm is getting further away. You understand?"_

_"I understand."_

_Lightning struck the landscape far behind the buildings to their left._

_A giddy squeal and a round, child's smile. "One… two… three… fo–"_

...

She flinched awake to the smell of wood smoke.

It was cold, but a globe of warmth could be felt from the left. Fire.

Opening her eyes, she found herself flat on her back, staring up at a map of stars. Her head hurt, like something was pounding against the inside wall of her skull, and the backs of her eyes throbbed in time with it. She blinked a few times, then registered what could only be a large stone uncomfortably pressing into her right butt cheek. She frowned and fidgeted.

"Awake already?" The words were English, while the voice was like melodious thunder and irrefutably male. Immediately her grey eyes found him, the huge man from before sat to her left, close to the fire. An old coat was wrapped around his wide shoulders, thick, versatile trousers with knee pads covered his legs and that thing on his face, that mask, which had caught her attention the first time, looked like a large spider clinging to his jaw. "Move your left arm."

Confused and still a little disorientated, she did as was asked.

"Good. Now lift your legs."

She did and he nodded, leaning forwards over her and grasping her left hand in his huge palm. His fingers found her pulse and they felt like ovals of sandpaper against the thin flesh of her wrist.

"Do you have any difficulty breathing?" he asked. She noticed he had a casual kind of concern, as though, even though he was going through all this, he wouldn't really care if she just snuffed it right then and there.

Unable to find her voice, she simply shook her head. He nodded once, then abandoned her hand to place the underside of his wrist on her forehead. He kept it there for a few seconds and made a throaty sound, before removing it and sitting up straight again.

"How many fingers?" he asked and lifted his hand.

The girl tried to speak, but she squeaked and croaked instead. The man waited patiently as she cleared the bogs in her throat and tried again. _"Three."_

He nodded, seemingly deeming her coherent, before turning back to the fire beside him.

She blinked and swallowed, finding her throat dry and scratchy. _"What happened?"_

He looked back at her and paused for a few seconds, his eyes never leaving hers. "I saved you."

She didn't know what to say to that, apart from: _"Thank you."_

"You understand me well."

She nodded. _"My… father was from Germany, he knew English. He taught me some, and German."_ She swallowed, _"You… you speak Georgian?"_

"Enough to understand you." He continued to gaze at her for a few seconds, then took a breath, "You have a break in your right ulna, and a compound linear fracture at the back of your skull. I have done what I can, but they will need time to heal."

It was only at his words that she noticed her condition. Her right forearm was bound in torn up cloth and held in a makeshift sling, while another set of 'bandages' was wrapped tightly around her head (these bandages having been made from ripped bits of her own clothing, she dully noted). And, typically, as soon as she acknowledged she was hurt, the pain reared its ugly head. She hadn't quite understood what he'd said, but now she had an idea. In a nutshell, she was broken and he'd fixed her, just as Hans had taught her how to fix electrical things. She groaned and her muscles tensed and stretched, trying to get away from the agony that burned in her arm and skull like white hot nails pushed through the skin and into the bone. She felt like crying, and wasn't surprised when fat, salty beads were squeezed from her eyes.

"Here," the man held a white pill to her lips, "for the pain."

She thought nothing of it as she swallowed the tablet, putting all trust in this man she didn't know. She stilled a few seconds, then began to writhe again. _"It's- It's not working!"_

He didn't seem worried as he turned back to the fire. "Give it time."

Trying to control her breathing, the girl closed her eyes and imagined herself slowly drifting away from the pain, as though it were a physical object. It seemed to work and busied her mind. After a while she found she could concentrate better as her aches lessened bit by bit. But they refused to go away completely.

She swallowed and took the time to glance around. The man had set up camp about a mile off the outskirts of the town she'd been living in, a place called Kaspi, Georgia. She could smell the scent of night and feel the hard packed earth beneath her body. There were a few trees dotted around and close by was the Mtkvari River. She could hear it babbling over the cobbles and silt on the bank.

She looked back at the masked man, sat staring into the fire and cleared her throat. "Why… did you save… me?" She hadn't practiced speaking in English for a while; her words came out disjointed with a heady accent.

He stared at her for the longest moment, as though deciding what to tell her, while she tried to discern what colour his eyes were. "I saved you on a whim," he said, and turned his head away. "But… there is no balance in this place."

She frowned. _'Balance? What does that have to do with anything?'_

He looked back at her, and this time, she noted his eyes were amazingly expressive. "You are the direct result of greed and corruption, the minority, scrambling and clinging to life while everyone else bathes in their riches. For justice to be realised… balance must be restored." He nodded as he said it, his gaze drifting off to look past her, lost in whirlwind thoughts.

_"You want to restore balance?"_ she asked.

He stayed silent for a second, thinking about it. "No…" He still wasn't looking at her; he seemed lost in his thoughts. Then he turned his head away, muttering something she didn't quite catch. The only word she thought she heard was 'yet'.

The girl swallowed as an idea formed in her mind. _"I was always taught… to repay my debts,"_ she said, _"You saved my life. It is only fitting I save yours."_

He looked at her, something akin to amusement in his eyes. "And what makes you think I need saving?"

His words made her hesitate. _"Nothing… but there may come a day you need help,"_ she paused, _"I figure, the least I can do, is be there when you need it."_

His words were slow, almost disbelieving. "You wish to serve me?"

_"… Yes."_

"And do what?"

"_Anything you ask of me_," she said, "_I can cook… kind of, uh…_" she swallowed again. The man's gaze was making her uncomfortable, and she couldn't for the life of her think of her strengths as words stuck in her throat like gum. "_I am good with electrics and… and maps_."

He watched her for a long moment, and the girl had a sinking feeling he would refuse her. Then, slowly, he bowed his head. "… Alright." He reached down to grasp something from by the fire. "Here."

She pushed herself up with her left hand and took the hot, metal mug of tea, blowing at it.

"What is your name?" he asked, picking up a mug of his own and she watched as he dropped in three sugar cubes. He then moved to take off his mask, and the girl thought she saw the pale white tissue of a scar crossing his top lip before her view was obscured by his cup.

She licked her lips a moment. "Feo… and yours?"

"Bane."

* * *

A/N: I'll admit that this is an indulgent story; just recently I've been on a Bane Binge (watching the TDKR every night) and I need to write something about him. This is the outcome.

Please review with your thoughts and criticisms!


	2. Chapter 2

_The Dark Knight Series_ © **Christopher Nolan  
**_Fire in the Blood _© **Hurlstien**

A/N: Speech in italics is said in Georgian, otherwise it is English.

**01-08-13 EDIT:** Re-thought Bane and Feo's relationship a little and made some minor changes - fixed grammar errors.  
**06-08-13 EDIT:** Got swayed by a new title, sorry if there's any confusion guys!

* * *

**- 2 -**

Bane didn't know what to expect from this girl, this…_Feo_. Talia was the only female he'd ever spent prolonged amounts of time around, but she'd been just a small child of ten the last time he'd seen her. He'd heard women got testy as they grew older, and Feo was at least a few years Talia's senior. It was this that plagued his mind as he stamped out the fire and gathered up his things the next morning.

He straightened and looked to the left to find the girl watching him, her arm slung across her stomach. He hadn't gotten a proper look last night, but with the morning sun Bane could see her shoulder-length hair wasn't actually black like he'd first thought; it was a dark, ashen brown, like coal. And her eyes were just a few shades lighter than his own metal grey ones. She was thin and short, her arms and legs like twiggy branches and her skin was pallid from what he could only guess was a horrific diet.

Finishing up his packing, Bane straightened and rolled his neck, popping it several times. He turned to Feo as she gazed around, biting her nails, then her eyes found his, and they told him that with the morning sun, her unease had arisen. He intimidated her and she was wary of him - but then, he couldn't really blame her, considering the vast size difference and the fact they'd known each other for less than twenty-four hours. Perhaps she hadn't been thinking straight when she'd pledged her service to him last night, and that, just like the morning after a night flooded with alcohol, she was only now realising what she'd done. It was something to consider.

The sky was overcast and there was a gentle breeze flicking her messy hair about her dirty face. Her clothes were baggy, muddied and torn. She really did look quite pathetic.

"You can get new clothes when we reach the next town." Bane said, scrutinising her. "And I believe a haircut is in order." Feo nodded hesitantly, but there was an odd tomato tinge to her cheeks. He frowned, reading her body language like a book. "What is it?"

"_I-umm… I need to… tinkle_." she looked off to the side, her blush growing.

Bane restrained a sigh. He looked around and pointed to a cluster of trees to their right. "You can go over there."

She looked at him, her gaze hard. "_You… you won't peek will you?_"

Bane's eyes flashed from surprised to disgusted in a second. "Why would I want to peek at a twelve-year-old?"

She narrowed her eyes. "_I want to hear you say it_."

Even though he could already tell of her unease, Bane still found the sudden distrustful twist of her character odd, especially when she had been so ready to swallow pills from a stranger last night. "I will not peek." he said slowly, attempting to keep the impatience from his voice. It was like trying to keep bees from honey.

Feo watched him for a few more seconds, before walking off towards the trees. Bane watched her go, shaking his head and wondering just what it was he'd gotten himself into.

When she returned a few minutes later, Feo said, "_By the way, I'm not a twelve-year-old; I'm fourteen_."

"You look like a twelve-year-old," he replied, turning and beginning to walk away.

She jogged after him, but kept her distance. "_How old are you?_"

"Nineteen."

She tilted her head. "_You don't look nineteen_."

Temptation curdled the air.

"… How old do I look?"

"_At least thirty_."

He snorted, and was immediately surprised when he did so, surprised at the light, warm jolt in his chest like the flick of a lighter. He hadn't laughed in a long time. But despite the unintended insult, Bane was willing to believe her guess was due to the fact she was young and that life in The Pit hadn't been kind to him.

They followed the river north-west toward the city of Gori. The Bermuda grass was long and clung to their legs as they walked, while Red Fescue swayed and bent under the weight of their fat brown tufts. Bushes and trees grew short and sparse as hills rolled away from them in the distance. Every so often the sun would peek out from behind the clouds, as if checking on their position, before retiring again.

They travelled in silence for a long while, awkward for Feo, but not so for Bane; he couldn't bring himself to care about conversation, especially not with someone he'd only just met. And as he walked he was seriously beginning to rethink his decision to let her serve him, after all, he would not only have to look out for himself now, but someone else too, someone who couldn't defend themselves.

"_I spy with my little eye, something beginning with…_" Feo said and searched around, "'R'… in English."

Bane cast a sideward glance at her, surprised by her sudden speech. She was still keeping her distance, walking off to his left, but at least she had the courage to talk to him. He initially intended not to play, but then he realised it would make their journey go by faster and, with a sigh, he surrendered to the idea. "River."

She shook her head. "_Nope_."

"Rock."

"_... Yeah_," she sounded genuinely disappointed as Bane searched the landscape for something to spy.

"Something beginning with 'D'." he said.

"… Dirt?"

"No."

"Uh… Ditch?"

"No."

She made a face. "Dung?"

"No."

Feo was silent for a couple of minutes, before sighing. "_I give up_."

"Duck," Bane said.

She perked up. "_Where?_"

He pointed to the river where a mother duck swam with a cluster of ducklings and Feo jogged closer to the water to watch them. "_I like ducks_," she said, more to herself than to him.

Bane looked at her. "I like them in orange sauce."

"Orange... sauce?" she asked.

"Cooked in."

She stared at him like he was a heathen. "_That's horrible!_"

The mask hid his small smile. "You won't eat duck then?"

Feo shook her head. "_No way_."

"What about other meat?"

"_I'll eat anything else… just not ducks_." she paused, squinting at him in the wind, and just like that he could tell her defences were back up after the short lived lull. "_… What are you doing out here, Bane?_"

"What do you mean?"

"_Well I can tell you aren't Georgian… Where are you from?_" she continued to keep her distance.

Memories of dusty cages smelling of waste, and blinding sunlight burning down through a hole in the ground flickered through Bane's eyes. And for a brief moment he was back there, sitting in his cell with Talia asleep on the cot beside him. "A place called Santa Prisca, in the Caribbean."

Feo's brow rose. She hadn't heard of that place, and she didn't know where it was. All the more reason for her to cautious, she supposed. "_Okay then, why are you here?_"

He thought for a moment, then looked at her. "Sightseeing."

* * *

They reached the city of Gori long after the sun had descended, and set up camp less than a mile away, on the northern bank of the Mtkvari.

As soon as Bane had said the words "We'll stay here tonight", Feo had fallen to a rough sitting position before tilting and finally toppling onto her back. The day's travel had evidently taken it out of her, and the only reason Bane let her off helping him set up camp was because of her injuries. He'd second guessed himself during the journey, wondering if he was right in making her walk all this way in her condition, right to even accept her offer in the first place. But Feo had complained only twice, and that was simply for painkillers. She'd done well to get this far, he supposed, which was fortunate for her; Bane would not put up with weakness.

Feo's face was pale and her breathing shallow as Bane started a small fire close by. He crouched beside it and twisted, reaching for his duffle bag. Opening it he took out the two metal cups they'd used for tea the night before, a pan and the loaf of bread he'd found on Feo the evening he'd saved her.

He left the girl's limp body in the grass and took the pan with him to the river. He shrugged off his coat and pulled off his shirt, revealing bulging muscles and a plethora of scars, the biggest being thick and white, like a sickly pale snake, following his spine down to his lower back and dipping under a thick leather brace he wore. Scooping up water, he washed his underarms, chest, shoulders and neck before filling the pan and heading back to the camp.

He threw his coat and shirt down by his bag and set up a small tripod over the fire to place the pan on. Sitting down with his back to Feo, he took the bread and tore it in half, leaving one portion in the packaging. He looked at the girl, still flopped roughly where she'd fallen, and recalled how he thought she'd ran off after he'd saved her. That night in the rain, he'd seen a flash of Talia in her, and he hadn't been able to help himself. Coming out from the alley he'd been walking down, Bane had been too late to save her from getting thrown into the wall, but he wasn't too late to keep her from being killed by a man with more anger than he knew what to do with.

(_"I believe that's child abuse."_

_"Who the hell're you?"_

"_I'm necessary_.")

The following fight had been a quick one; in fact, it was the easiest neck he'd ever snapped. It had almost felt like it wanted to be broken. Or perhaps that was just his own anger talking. He'd released the man and let him slump into a puddle at his feet, the only thing odd being his neck that was twisted just a little too far to be natural. Bane had had half a mind to turn it, just so it didn't look so bad at first glance, but he'd dismissed the silly notion when he remembered the girl. The girl who, for half a second, had looked like Talia - and at that thought, he'd begun to believe he was being stupid for even bothering to save her. But he'd turned away from the corpse only to find her missing. He remembered looking up and down the empty street, searching for her through the murky sheets of rain. Then, upon closer inspection, he'd spotted her collapsed against the wall where she'd been thrown, clothes and hair soaked, and a thin solution of blood accumulating beneath her head. It was then he realised she had barely any presence at all.

During his time in The League of Shadows, Bane knew how difficult it was to conceal one's existence. It was so very hard, but so very crucial for an assassin to master. This girl, he knew, would be a natural at it.

"Feo," he said.

She groaned and opened her eyes. He tossed the bread still in the plastic bag at her and she tried to catch it, only succeeding in batting it to the floor. She sat up, pulling the food into her lap with her still functioning hand. "_Uh, thank you,_" she said, connecting the dots and recognising it as the bread she'd pilfered yesterday. She glanced up at him with a strange look in her eyes and did a double take. Then, as though she'd been caught looking at something she shouldn't be, she averted her gaze and began to eat.

Bane sat cross-legged and left his bread balanced on his knee while he watched the water begin to boil. Once it was frothing fiercely, he took two teabags from his duffle and put them in the metal mugs, adding in the water. He stirred them both with a plastic spoon before handing one to Feo. She took it with a quiet 'thank you' and settled it by her knee.

But when she turned her head to the left and away from him to stare down at a bug that crawled out from under her thigh, Bane caught a light flicker on her skin, just beneath her messy mop of hair. The kind of shimmer you get with a scar. He narrowed his eyes as he discerned it in the glow of the fire; a wobbly line that cut down the side of her neck to the thin muscle of her shoulder. How had he not noticed it before?

"That scar," he asked, gesturing to his own neck as she looked at him, "how did you get it?"

She seemed startled by his words, then her expression grew vacant and her eyes began to look through him, then past him as though there were someone standing over his shoulder. "_I, um…_" her voice was raspy as she focused in on him again and cleared her throat. "_I was in a car crash... about a year ago_."

"Who was driving?"

Her mouth opened, then closed again and her eyes looked through him once more. "_My… dad- My father_."

(_"One… two… three… fo–"_)

She blinked and looked back at him. "_How did you get yours?_"

There was a pinch of amusement in Bane's voice as he spoke. "Which one?"

"_That big one… on your back_." she said, having spied it when he handed her the tea.

He held her gaze for a moment. "Fighting."

"_What about that one?_" she gestured to her own shoulder where a white curve resided on his.

"Fighting."

"_… And that one?_"

He sighed a little. "Fighting."

Feo cocked her head. "_You fight a lot, don't you?_" There was a hint of amusement in her eyes.

"Mostly when I was younger," he nodded his head once as he tested his tea with the tip of his finger. Cool enough. He reached up to loosen his mask's clasps before pulling it off, and he felt Feo's gaze on him, just like he had the night before when he'd removed it. He ignored her staring and reached into his duffle, pulling out a clear plastic bag filled with sugar cubes. He dropped three into his cup and stirred.

Feo's teeth bit into her bread again and she swallowed before asking: "_So what's the mask for?_"

He lifted his tea to his scarred lips. "I'll tell you once I no longer need it."

Feo's shoulders dropped. "_When will that be?_"

Bane shrugged and sipped at his drink.

Silence settled on them as Feo ate her bread and Bane quickly tore into his, not wanting to take any longer than he needed to; he only had roughly two minutes before the pain would become unbearable. Once he finished, he pulled the mask back on and stared out into the distance at the rising buildings of Gori. The gentle chirp of crickets softened the atmosphere, accompanied by the quiet snapping of the fire and hum of the river. It was warm, and there was no wind to stifle the flames or chill them, and so Bane's shirt and coat remained left in the grass by his side.

"Your father was right to try to teach you different languages," Bane began, voicing an idea that had been floating around in his head for the past minute. He looked at her. "From now on, everything you say should be in English."

Feo frowned. "_Why?_"

"Because it's a universal language," said Bane. "If you are to serve me, many of the places we visit will speak only their mother tongue and English. It will be very useful to you."

"_Oh… alright, the–_ I mean… okay." Feo nodded and sipped her tea. She looked down at it, then at the bag by Bane's side. "Um… do you… got… anymore of those… white things?" Putting down her drink, she lifted her hand and indicated the size of the 'white things'.

Bane paused. "They're called 'sugar cubes'."

"Sugar… cubes," Feo repeated, testing the words on her tongue.

Bane nodded once. "How many?"

Feo held up her fingers and he twisted, picking out three cubes and handing them to her. She stirred them into her cup, then sniffed, and, after deciding she liked the scent, drank the warm sugary liquid in the light of the fire.

* * *

_Thank you very much to all my reviewers, you guys are awesome! I thought I should just say that I don't know all that much about the country of Georgia. I've never been there nor met anyone who's been there, all my information comes from my own research, so if you find anything questionable or wrong, do not hesitate to tell me._

_Please review and tell me how I did!_


	3. Chapter 3

_The Dark Knight Series_ © **Christopher Nolan  
**_Fire in the Blood _© **Hurlstien**

A/N: I've edited and updated the last chapter with some minor changes to Bane and Feo's relationship. I'm saying so just in case you want to take a gander at that first before continuing.

* * *

(we never cease wanting what we want, whether it's good for us or not)

– **3 –**

_Bane waits patiently for an answer as he pushes his bed up into the corner, effectively making this little sector his own private lodgings. Feo is standing with her back to him, looking out at the surrounding sewers with curiosity in her grey eyes… curiosity, and something else. To their right is a set of rusting railings fencing off a steep drop into a stream of rushing water. From the level above, a waterfall rushes out and funnels into the torrent below, and aside from the noise, Feo thinks it is quite beautiful, but that is all she likes in this place._

"_It is… not bad," she says as she watches a group of hired mercenaries pass by, carrying with them tools, guns, bits of machinery and personal effects. Everyone is busy making Gotham's underground tunnels their home, but Bane senses Feo is not satisfied. "Still cannot see the stars, though."_

_He doesn't sigh because he'd known what she was going to say before she said it – ever since his return to The League of Shadows all those years ago, Feo had been acting strangely. Her change wasn't so abrupt or drastic that just anyone could notice however, only him. After knowing the woman for fifteen years any slight shift in her mood was obvious to the man._

_Feo's hands drop to the lip of her dirty dungarees, her thumbs hooking in, a motion many would perceive as relaxed and confident. But all Bane can see is the way her fingers curl and pinch at the threadbare material. He resists another urge to sigh, before his heart suddenly jumps at the sound of a familiar voice._

"_Settling in well?"_

_Feo hears it too, though, her heart does not jump– it trips and falls._

_They both turn to see Talia round the corner and walk toward them wrapped in a rich red shawl and flowing midi skirt. Her high heels snap at the floor and make Feo flinch, even though the waterfall roars at her back. It is a strange sight: a beautiful woman calmly sauntering through a sewer, like a diamond concealed under a mound of coal. Bane comes forward now, moving past Feo and she cannot help the sour look in her eyes as he meets Talia – everything about the way he moves telling her everything she doesn't want to know. No matter how well he hides it, he cannot fool her._

_There is a pause, before Bane says: "Leave us."_

_He doesn't look at her, but she knows it is she he is talking to. This was something else that added to the heat building in Feo's guts, the way he acted towards her when this woman was around. Feo looks at Talia, who is simply watching her with a quiet smile and satisfaction hidden beneath kind eyes, before she takes her leave._

_But she doesn't leave completely. Feo uses the skills Bane has taught her, the instincts he has passed on, honed in his days with The League of Shadows. She rounds a corner, out of sight and continues walking, letting her footsteps echo down the empty tunnel. Then, when she is far enough away, she slinks back, keeping her steps light and soundless. Expertly controlling her diaphragm and lungs, she barely breathes as she sidles up to the corner she'd just disappeared around. She can hear Talia's accented voice, then Bane's deep bass tones, and she listens as they discuss their plans for Gotham._

_Then, when the conversation grows quiet, she makes ready to leave with haste. But three syllables stop her._

_She chokes back a gasp because she has never heard those words come from Bane's mouth before._

"I love you."

_Feo swears she feels her heart crack._

_She leaves, not caring if her footsteps are no longer soundless or her breathing is no longer non-existent. Shaking with rage and green with jealousy, her breath comes short and she walks faster and faster as she feels her lungs being sucked deeper and deeper into her stomach, like sacks of stones in the ocean, not wanting the few mercenaries she passes to see her in such a state. In fact, it was imperative they didn't. Any sign of weakness down here and it could be the end of her standing in the group. Feo did not just rely on Bane and his authority to keep her safe, she had utilised her strengths and smarts to get her where she was by Bane's side. To remain there demanded both favour from Bane and her own skills. Crying would be the hole in her ship's hull._

_She reaches the makeshift kitchen area of the lair and is thankful there is no one to see her pull a can of beer from the fridge and sit down heavily at the table. She cracks the tin cap and drinks deeply, letting the cheap, frothy liquid slip down her throat and hiss as it hits the hot anger swelling in her guts. The despairing wish and the burning hope that one day she could go back to how it was before, festered with the alcohol in her stomach. When it was just he, her and the stars at night._

* * *

**.Ѻ.**

* * *

"How long will I take to, uh… heal?" asked Feo as she held up a shirt from the small pile of clothes in her lap. Bane had brought them back to camp with him from his trip into Gori that morning, as well as food rations, a thin blanket, spare bed roll and bag.

The man paused in his push ups. "Roughly four weeks for your arm," he lowered and raised himself again as Feo thought that wasn't so bad, "and about two to three months for your head."

Said head shot up. "W-what?"

Bane looked up at her. "Consider yourself lucky you didn't need stitches."

Feo sighed, and ran her still functioning hand over her shaved hair. Bane had cut it upon his return from Gori, after assuring the skittish girl he wasn't about to slit her throat, and now it was closely hewed to her skull, making her look like a young boy at first glance. Her fingers feathered over the inflamed bump at the back of her head and she winced at the tenderness and the image she conjured in her mind, of a swollen purple mound, puffing around a crack running through it like lightning. "_That's so long…_ "

"English."

"_Oh! Sorry._ I mean…" she swallowed, "that is a very long time," she corrected, then furrowed her brow, "It is… too long a time." She ran her hand over her head again, the feel of her hair still very alien to her.

Bane nodded. "Better." And continued with his exercise.

Feo watched him, recalling that she didn't think she'd ever met anyone as big as this man. Bane's muscles bulged as they pushed him from the ground, then lowered him again, and Feo felt a strange sense of smallness hit her. Bane had been right in thinking he intimidated her– he did. But he also saved her, and she'd sworn to serve him in hopes that one day she could save his life too. He'd given her a purpose. So what good would shying away from him do?

"How… how do you know all this, anyway?" she asked, picking up a pair of new knickers and blushing, quickly putting them down again.

"I have met," with a grunt Bane pushed himself up for the final time and drew his legs into a crouch, "many people in my life." His forearms leant on his thighs and he cradled his hands between his legs. "Knowledgeable people. They taught me many things," he said, staring at her. "And books; ever since I was young I have read every book I had access to," he paused for a moment as he seemed to assess her. "Can you read?"

Feo nodded. "Yes, but mostly Georgian."

Bane bowed his head, then reached into his duffle bag, pulling out a thick hardback. He handed it to her and she ran her fingers over the worn cover, squinted at the embossed title. "Rob-in-son Croo-so-ee." she said, then looked up at him.

"Robinson Crusoe. It is debated that book was the first ever English novel," he said, "It was one of the first books I ever read."

Feo opened the book and flicked through the thin pages. "Bane," she said, still staring down at the paper in her hands. He glanced at her as she looked up at him. "Can you… teach me what you were taught?"

He held her gaze for a long moment. "I was taught a lot of things," then, with a tone that suggested there was something he wasn't telling her, said: "the genres of which vary greatly."

Feo bit at her thumb nail and her shoulders sagged as she predicted his answer.

"But, if you truly wish to learn… I will help you," he said, looking right at her and her head came up. "Knowledge… is power, Feo. Survival of the fittest– not just in body, but also in mind." Bane knew he would have hated it had the people he'd met in The Pitt not been kind enough to teach him the things he knew. He also understood he would probably have been dead by now were it not for them. It was this that had made his choice. When he looked at her, the excitement in her eyes was like headlamps shining in the dark. "You can start by reading that book, and tonight we'll see how good you are at writing."

Feo couldn't help the smile on her face as she nodded, before flicking to page one of Robinson Crusoe.

* * *

That evening, Feo and Bane had made it to the village of Akhaldaba, making camp on the outskirts, just east of a tributary connecting to the Mtkvari. The new clothes Bane had bought for the girl were packed away in the small bag he'd fetched back from Gori that morning. Feo had carried both that and the new sleeping roll and blanket on her back all day whilst attempting to read Robinson Crusoe. It was for this reason they hadn't covered as much ground as the day before. But for now, Bane wasn't especially bothered, so long as they were moving.

As they'd travelled, Feo had asked numerous questions about the language used in the novel, mostly the odd spellings that she had never come across before. Bane had explained their meaning while Feo tripped as she walked, her head stuck in the book. They had skirted round the city of Gori, pressing north, then waded through the tributary river to the western side. Feo had found that part especially fun as she'd lifted the book above her head when the water reached her waist, laughing and saying she felt like a commando crossing the river with his gun.

But now, it was at least an hour before sunset and Feo had used the ingredients Bane had on him to create a simpler version of the traditional Georgian Kharcho, simpler being without the meat. She had hummed while she'd cooked, a slow tune, a melancholy sort of melody. Bane had not heard it before, but then, he'd never had a head for music. She'd poured the reddish-brown broth into two bowls before boiling some water for tea. Once the brew was ready, they each plopped in three sugars and began their meal.

"I thought you said you could cook," Bane appraised Feo with a disappointed look, his mask resting on his thigh as he ate.

The girl avoided his gaze and shoved another spoonful into her mouth. "I said I can cook, _kind of_…" She cast a sheepish sideward glance at him. "It is not that bad, is it?"

Bane looked down at the soup bowl in his hands and stirred it as he thought of the slop he'd eaten in The Pitt. "I've had worse." He took another mouthful, "How did you learn?"

"My father," Feo paused in her eating, a little too awkwardly to be natural, then set her spoon down in her bowl that sat on the ground. "He taught me." After a small hesitation, she reached for her tea. Her actions were not lost on Bane, but he kept silent, intent on finishing his meal before the pain set in.

Down by the river, not ten meters away, a family of coots cooed to each other as they bedded down for the night, while the odd cricket deemed it safe enough to begin their song. A stork stood rigid in the shallows, the far off buzz of traffic in the nearby village not bothering it.

As she ate, Feo's mind wandered, and quickly came to muse upon what happened the night Bane saved her. She closed her eyes and tried to recall exactly what she'd seen. But the images were just smudges in her mind's eye. From what little she could salvage of the broken memory, she discerned Bane through the blurs, his broad shoulders and dark mask marking him clearly. She recalled his sharp movements, his body moving lithely, belying his stout stature. She likened what she could remember to a dance. A deadly one.

She looked up at him. "Bane?"

He grunted, acknowledging her as he quickly finished his meal and slipped on his mask.

"How exactly did you save me from that man?"

This time, instead of grunting an answer, he looked right at her, his face blank. "I killed him."

Feo paused in her eating, keeping her steady wide gaze on his. "How?"

Bane felt his brow dip for a split-second. "I broke his neck."

Feo's lips suddenly pursed, before she ran her tongue over them, ending in her teeth biting them briefly. "You… You remember how I asked you… to teach me all that you know?"

Bane didn't need her to continue. There was a sly, hopeful look in her eyes that told him what her mouth did not.

"Why would you want to know how to kill a man?" he asked.

"So I do not need saving."

Of course. Her aim was to ultimately save his life, however unlikely that may be – the thought still made him want to smile. He didn't say anything for a long moment. "It takes a lot of dedication. Patience… Pain."

"I can do it. Just tell me what to do."

His words did little to deter her. Feo was resolute in her decision, and Bane recalled how he thought he'd lost her the night he'd saved her; this girl had no presence, she would be a natural at disappearing.

Slowly, he bowed his head. "Alright."

* * *

_Thank you for all your reviews so far! Not to mention your faves and follows, I'm so glad you all like the story._

_Quote at the beginning is from Stephen King's Full Dark, No Stars_

_To my anonymous reviewer, BeautifulAngel: I'm happy you're enjoying it! And don't worry; I'll be working in the meaning of Feo's name later on :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_The Dark Knight Series _© **Christopher Nolan  
**_Fire in the Blood _© **Hurlstien**

* * *

– **4 –**

Feo's cry rang out across the hilly plain of Georgian grassland. Her fist collided with Bane's forearm and he blocked and deflected as she wildly swung in for another.

"Have some finesse," he said, obviously enjoying this.

Sweat poured down the girl's brow, beading from her cropped hair that had grown a little since it was cut over a month ago. Her skin was no longer pallid, and shone a light tan in the sunlight from weeks of travel. Half-length, baggy pants made of cheap linen hung low around her waist, while a dark grey tank top covered her chest. There was a small amount of fat around her hips now, her legs were a little thicker and didn't look like twigs anymore, and her breasts, though naturally small, had a little more shape to them. She had made a vast improvement under Bane's care, and now, after two weeks of training almost every day, she was pitting herself against him, trying to recall and solidify the techniques he'd taught her in her mind.

Bane's hand came out of nowhere and clouted Feo across the jaw. She twisted from the force and fell to the ground on her stomach. She remained there, breathing hard as she looked up and saw dark clouds on the horizon. A storm was coming.

Bane's bare chest glistened in the dim sun, sweating simply from moving in the humidity and not from any threat posed by Feo. He lifted his arms, spread them wide. "Is this all you have to offer?" he reached down and pulled her up by the arm. He made to strike her and she flinched, but the knife of his hand stopped millimetres from her neck. "Will you not defend yourself?" He let her go and backed up as she straightened.

Wiping away sweat and dirt from her mouth with the back of her hand, Feo watched Bane with a fire in her eyes. Ever since their lessons had begun, Bane had noticed this, had noticed the intenseness of her grey irises as her emotions began to surface. Frustration. Annoyance. Anger.

She rushed at him. Mouth open, fangs bared. She aimed a jab that Bane deflected, then kicked the inside of his right thigh aiming for the femoral. Had she been stronger, and had he not been so wrapped in muscle, the attack would've had an effect.

"Anger is a powerful thing," he batted away another punch. "But it is your downfall."

She was about to kick at his knee, but Bane gripped her arm and twisted her around.

"Control your emotions - they do not own you, you own them."

And suddenly she was spiralling– flipping. She felt Bane's shoulder against her chest and then she was in the air, flipping and landing hard on her back in the grass, her arm still in Bane's grip. He dropped her limb and she let it fall to her side as she gasped for air.

"This is what you wanted," Bane said, turning from her and slowly pacing away. "I warned you there would be pain. Yet still you insisted I teach you to fight."

The clouds on the horizon grew closer, the rumbling of thunder shuddering through the air. Feo rolled onto her side, catching her breath as she pushed herself to a hunched stand. Bane stopped, and Feo watched his broad back as it turned and she slowly straightened. Surprise was in his eyes; she was back on her feet already, and she was staring him down.

He couldn't help the wide smile beneath the mask.

Feo rushed in again, aiming punch after punch. Bane blocked each one, watching, fascinated at the girl's determination, until he'd had enough playtime.

"You have fire," he nodded, then snarled: "But that won't help you against me."

Faster than the lightning that flashed above them, he had her head in his arms, ready to break her neck.

Feo didn't think she'd ever felt so vulnerable than she did at that moment. She daren't move. She could feel the warm muscles of Bane's arm tense around her throat, one hot hand curled over the top of her head, ready to pull. Her hands were hooked over his thick forearm, but it's not like that would do her any good. The tips of her toes brushed the grass below as he held her, and for a second, she thought he was actually going to do it.

"Try again." He released her.

Feo stumbled forwards, coughed and spun, not willing to have her back to him when they were sparring.

If she didn't know any better, she would've thought Bane only entertained her like this because he wanted to show off his own skills. In fact, she had believed as such during the first week or so. But now she was beginning to realise; this was all for her. Experience of fear, experience of pain, experience of having her life in danger. She learnt early on that Bane was not a vain man, neither was he shallow or insecure enough to beat up a fourteen-year-old just to make himself feel stronger. He was better than that– _knew_ better than that. Everything that was happening now was for her benefit and hers alone. So what if he got a bit of sadistic glee out of it? It didn't change the fact that she was so very grateful.

Her hands came up and she shook her head a little, getting her eyes to focus. Slowly, she circled him, gradually drawing closer. She shot a cautious left jab, hoping to draw the man into reacting, but Bane was far past such cheap tricks. He simply did nothing. Growing tired, Feo kicked out at his shin, but Bane slid his foot back. This simple move caused Feo to fall forwards, losing balance and Bane wasn't about to let that opportunity slide. His hand swooped under her chin, the 'C' between his thumb and index catching and gripping her neck and he lifted her from the ground as her own hands clawed at his wrist.

"When your life is in danger, all is permitted," he said, "Even murder."

Just as her head began to feel tight and light, Feo swung her body up. Her left leg hooked over his right arm that held her, and she used her new purchase to swing her right leg up, colliding roughly with his mask. The attack was fast, and even though Bane had seen it coming, it still shocked him enough that he didn't make a move to stop her.

She was dropped like a poisonous snake, and landed coughing in the grass as Bane stepped back and turned away from her, checking his mask for damage. When he found there wasn't any, he glanced back at the girl who was already trying to push herself to her feet. He watched her thighs shake and her arms cautiously leave the floor, trusting her legs to hold her as he ambled over.

Feo barely registered his presence, until his tented fingers were on her shoulder and she felt gravity shift as he pushed her over. It was so effortless; he may as well have done it with a feather. Flat on her back in the grass Feo finally picked up on all the pain flares her body was sending to her brain. Her lungs burned, her legs ached and her arms felt like jelly. Not to mention the warm welts that bloomed along her jaw and forearms from the hits she'd blocked and taken, she knew he'd been pulling his punches – if he hadn't, she'd be in a coma by now – but they still packed a wallop.

Bane stood over her, lightning cracking the sky behind him. "That's enough for today."

…

"Make no mistake: here, you face death."

_What Ra's had told him that day never really sunk in until about a week into his training. And even then he still felt it was nothing compared to what he'd already been through. So when it came to his test, it was as easy as breathing._

_Blocking a katana with his armoured forearm, Bane spun inward, jabbing his elbow back into the covered face of his assailant. He felt the crunch of cartilage, before deflecting an incoming fist and pumping his own into the owner's stomach. Finishing the man off with a left hook, he ducked, sensing the incoming stab from behind. The blade skimmed the padding of his shoulder, before he pivoted and hooked his assailant's calf with his hand, pushing his forearm into the hip to shatter the attacker's balance and send him slamming to the ground. Bane swiftly stood and stomped on the fallen man's stomach to keep him down, then turned to address the next assailant. His style was strong and fast, it wasn't pretty but it had its own beauty; a deadly grace like that of a shark – powerful, sleek and unstoppable._

_It went on like this for four more minutes before there was no one left to fight. Bodies wrapped in black lay groaning and twitching on the floor around him as he stood, tense and breathing heavily. His eyes found Ra's al Ghul stood off to the side, his arms crossed as he leant against the wall. Pride bloomed in Bane's chest at the carnage he'd wrought. No one was dead. No one was seriously injured. He had shown self-control and his attacks had been smooth and quick._

_His breathing came ragged through his new mask like rusty nails, and he couldn't help the hopeful look in his eyes as he awaited approval._

_Ra's looked down at the floor for a moment, then back to Bane. "You are still not strong enough."_

_Al Ghul left silently, disappearing into the shadows he'd built. There was nothing more to say._

…

The storm passed them by, rolling low through the sky towards the mountains north of them. Bane watched them go; an unreadable emotion in his eyes as the echo of Ra's al Ghul's footsteps fell into his ears and rattled down through his ribs like used coppers. Then he turned and walked over to his bag that sat slumped in the shade of the cluster of trees nearby. Feo, having caught her breath, was still flat on her back, eyes closed and breathing calmly when Bane called her over. She got up and stumbled towards where he crouched, wanting nothing more than to simply rest. But when the cold metal butt of a gun was pressed into her hand, the warm tiredness cobwebbing her mind was frozen over and broken away, making room for clear confusion and a little apprehension.

She stared at the weapon, not saying anything as she turned it over in her hands. What did he mean by this? And as if to ask him, Feo looked up to find Bane watching her.

"It is merely a precaution," he said, standing from his crouch and ushering her to follow him. He had something in his hand, a thin black box shaped like a tilted rectangle, but she didn't ask, simply followed. They stopped around ten feet away from a nearby tree where Bane held up the little box and took the gun from her. "This gun is a semi-automatic CZ-99 pistol, and this," he held up the little black box, "is its magazine. It holds the ammunition." He then showed her how to load the weapon, sliding the magazine up through an opening at the bottom of the grip and pulling back the slide at the top. "Then you fire." He held the gun with both hands, pointing it at the tree ahead of them and pulling the trigger.

The resulting blast echoed, but was lost in the rumbling thunder of the storm. Bane nodded to himself, knowing that the noise of the storm would mask any shot they made. The pungent scent of sweet, hot metal hit Feo as she watched smoke scarves wisp from the barrel.

Bane brought his arms down and when he turned to Feo he found her staring at the weapon in his hand with a strange look in her eyes. She seemed entranced by it.

"I acquired it for emergencies," he said, and held it out to her. She didn't take it.

"But… but why me– why do I have to…?"

"Like I said, my dear, it's for emergencies."

Feo swallowed. She'd never before been trusted with something so dangerous. She looked from Bane to the gun in his outstretched hand, then she took it. It was like carved granite, heavy and cold, hard and sharp. Bane had her take out the magazine and re-load it to get her used to the action.

"Now, shoot the tree," he said, pointing to the target. Feo took the gun in both hands and Bane checked her technique. "Keep your grip tight. Make sure your thumbs are clear of the hammer," he pointed to top back end of the gun. "When you are ready."

Hesitantly, Feo fired the gun, and missed the tree by a few feet. She hadn't been expecting the jerk back to be so hard and she almost dropped it as the burning scent came to her again.

Bane nodded. "Try again. Make sure to keep your grip tight."

She pulled back the slide, aimed and pulled the trigger. She missed again. When the third shot missed, Feo sighed.

"You are getting closer," Bane appraised, his tone suggesting he wasn't as put out as Feo at her poor aim. "But I'm afraid that's all we have time for," he said, looking to the horizon to find the storm withering and drifting further away from them. "If we carry on we risk people getting curious," he said and began to walk away. Feo looked from the bruised clouds to the gun and connected the dots.

They walked back towards the cluster of trees where their bags had been left, the coming night making itself known to the east. Once they arrived, Feo tried to hand the gun back to Bane, but he wouldn't take it.

"It is yours now."

Feo looked confused. "But… you are teaching me how to fight. I don't need a gun; you said it is just for the emergencies."

Bane nodded. "I did… But you are not yet strong enough to rely on just your body to protect you."

The girl's shoulders slumped and she looked at the gun in her hand. _'He's giving it to me because he doesn't need it… Of course he doesn't need it,'_ she looked up at Bane, _'he's invincible.'_

* * *

The last time Feo saw a proper bed was over a year ago. So as Bane opened the door to the hotel room they'd be sharing, the first thing she did was dump her things and make a running leap, landing on the faded flower pattern covers and bouncing on the mattress. Sunlight streaked through the windows, complimenting the plain vanilla walls and dark red carpet. Pictures of fields and horses, country lanes and mountains hung from bent, dusty nails like worn family photos, bringing a certain comfort to the room.

"You insist you're fourteen, and yet you act like a four year old," Bane said as he closed the door and ambled over, his large frame making the room shrink. Feo stuck her tongue out at him while he dumped his bag and bed roll at the foot of the second bedstead.

"So what is this work you have to do?" Feo asked as Bane perched on the edge of his bed, sinking the mattress.

"It's mercenary work. I'll be acting as a body guard for a month," he said, running a hand over his shaven head and mask straps. "Nothing difficult."

Feo hummed, planting her chin in her hand.

"And while I'm doing that, you need to keep up with your studies," Bane reached down and took a notepad and pencil from his duffle bag. He flipped to the ten math problems Feo had been trying to complete the night before and the girl pulled a face as he dropped it on the blanket in front of her.

Over the past month, Feo had made progress, both in her lessons and training. She had finished the book Robinson Crusoe, having comments about how she didn't much understand the religious concepts and admitted that a few things went over her head, but that she'd seen a lot of herself in the character Friday. Bane had been surprised and, he couldn't deny, impressed that she'd picked up on this, and told her that once his next job was over he'd get her another book, though, perhaps something more modern with less complicated language.

So for the next two weeks, Feo practised her two-times-table and learnt how to spell words like 'miscommunication', while Bane posed as a VIP's guard. On the third day she'd asked Bane to get her some string so she could make a bracelet, and the man had shrugged and left the room, returning hours later after his guard shift with a ball of thread in hand. It was this she now fiddled with as she perched on the wide windowsill and watched the moon as she awaited Bane's return.

The bracelet she was making was something Hans had taught her how to do when she was nine. It resembled a hair braid and was made in the same fashion. She was happily humming to herself, twirling and weaving the three intertwined threads as the moon was obscured by clotted cloud.

Then the door opened and cracked against the wall, and Feo snapped her head round to see Bane stumble through, his hands covered in blood.

* * *

_I love all your reviews, so please tell me what you think and feel free to point out any grammar errors and the like! I'm off for some almond milk._


	5. Chapter 5

_The Dark Knight Series_ © **Christopher Nolan  
**_Fire in the Blood_ © **Hurlstien**

* * *

– **5 –**

Feo's mood was shaken and cast away like an empty spray can as she watched Bane walk into the room, slamming the door behind him. In his wake he left a bloody handprint on the wood. She was frozen, the only bit of her moving being her heart that thrummed at the sight of blood. Bane reached his bed and sat down, stripping off his coat and shirt and grabbing his duffle bag. Then Feo moved, throwing herself from the windowsill and almost losing her balance as her feet hit the floor.

She ran across the room but came to a sharp stop a couple of feet away when she realised she didn't know what she was doing. She simply stared at the man as he tried to unroll a spool gauze one-handed while the other was clamped to his side, trying to staunch the bleeding.

Her throat felt like it was clogged with wet sponge as she tried to talk. "Wh-what- what do I do?... Tell me what to do." She said it quickly, eager to help him, eager to put her hands to good use.

Bane spared her a glance, then after a moment, abandoned trying to unroll the bandages and took a closer look at his wound. "Go into the bathroom and fill the sink with cold water," he said, pointing to the room. Feo scurried to do so, and after Bane fished out a box of cotton pads and a first aid kit, he followed her.

Feo plugged the sink, turned the cold tap on full blast and twiddled her fingers in the water as the basin filled. She jumped a little when Bane entered behind her. He shut the door, sat down heavily on the stool by the sink and pointed to the flannel wrapped around the cold tap. "Soak and wring that out." She did as asked and passed it to him, before turning off the tap and perching on the edge of the bathtub. Bane took away his blood covered hand and Feo's body tensed when she saw the jagged line of split flesh. She didn't look away even when he carefully pressed the flannel to it.

They sat in silence and the tap dripped loudly. Feo began to bite her nails. When Bane took away the flannel it was dyed red, and when it hit the water, clouds of crimson laced through the liquid. It might've looked beautiful, were it not his blood, Feo thought. Once the wound was relatively clean, Bane took a cotton wool pad and held it on top of a bottle of rubbing alcohol, tipping it upside down three times before applying the wool to the wound. He didn't hiss or flinch, and when Feo flicked her eyes up to his face, he didn't even seem in any pain.

He repeated this five times, making sure every bit of the wound had been covered. Then he used the same method to sterilise the needle and stringed stitching thread through the eye. Carefully, he pushed the tip of the curling needle through the corner of the slit in his skin and out the other side. Feo's grey eyes observed as he pulled the stitch from the needle, snipped it down to size and tied both ends together, then he repeated.

They continued to sit in silence until Bane reached his fifth stitch and Feo finally said something. "What happened?"

Bane didn't look up, and he didn't answer her until he'd pushed the needle all the way through. "Someone made an attempt on my charge's life. There were two of them," he said, not stopping his work, "They were lucky." He said it in a tone that suggested they really _were_ lucky. "… Or perhaps not; they're dead now."

The way he spoke was so… surreal– so casual; here he was, sewing up his own flesh, and he was acting as though it were nothing.

Feo looked at the bathroom door. "Did you…" she swallowed, "Did your charge survive?"

Bane nodded as he began his next suture. Feo's eyes followed his movements.

Isn't this what she stayed with him for? Isn't this what she was meant to be doing? Her cheeks burned a little. She said she would serve him, do anything he asked of her. But what good was she, sitting there, perched on the edge of the bath like some small bird scared to death of something but not knowing what? Her muscles were cramped, hardened like delicately carved rocks, and she was biting her nails down to the thick, nerveless flesh beneath. Soon they would start bleeding.

(_Knowledge… is power Feo_. _Survival of the fittest– not just in body, but also in mind_.)

She swallowed when she remembered that, and it was almost like Bane had read her thoughts when he glanced up at her briefly, and said: "You can do the last two." He held out the bloodied needle and thread, his fingers stained a fleshy rose, spit-spotted with darker cardinal blooms.

Feo took her hand away from her mouth and stared at him for moment. "Are you sure?"

He bowed his head. "I believe you've had enough time to stare. Let's see how good your memory is."

Licking her bottom lip, then biting it, Feo moved from the edge of the bathtub and took the needle and thread. She knelt down by his side, recalling his earlier movements, the way his fingers moved, how his hands had a slow methodical determination – focus. She swallowed and began. The first stitch took a good few minutes, but with Bane's supervision and guidance, she didn't go wrong. The next was done quicker.

When she was finished, she let out a long sigh and stood as Bane inspected her work. "Not bad," he said, brushing his fingers over the sutures.

Feo looked a mix of worried and confused as he began to pack away the first aid kit. "Doesn't it hurt?"

He binned the bloodied cotton pads, packed up the first aid kit and made for the door. "Not nearly as much as you'd think."

They returned to the main room and went through the motions of getting ready for bed. Feo picked up her half-finished bracelet and tidied away her notebook and pencil before climbing under the covers. She continued to tie the threads together while the light remained on, weaving them around each other as she recalled weaving the needle through someone else's skin. Bane's skin. She'd helped him, she realised, even though he really hadn't needed her, he'd let her continue his work for her own benefit, to teach her what she did not know.

(_Knowledge… is power Feo_.)

Yes. And without it, she was nothing but a burden to him, because in the end, it had been him helping her.

Her thoughts burned as she constantly replayed that scene in the bathroom, and before she knew it, her bracelet was finished. It was a round five millimeters wide, but it grew narrower closer to the end, evidence of Feo's mind being elsewhere and her body being tense.

The light was still on, and she looked up to find Bane crashed out on his covers, the damp flannel, now dyed pink, slapped to his sutures. She glanced down at the woven string in her hands, then slipped out of bed and over to his limp form. She crouched by his bedside where his left arm hung over the lip of the mattress and tied her creation around his thick wrist. It almost didn't fit; she hadn't made it with his wrist in mind, but as she secured it in place, she realised it didn't look half as bad as she thought it would, tight as it was.

When she looked up she found Bane's dark eyes watching her and she froze for a second, before offering a quick smile. "It is a friendship bracelet," she said simply. He didn't say anything, didn't even grunt in acknowledgment, he just watched her. But what he could not know, what Feo refused to say, was that it wasn't just a friendship bracelet; to her, it was a silent promise, a promise that she would get stronger. Strong enough so that one day, she could return the favour he gave her when he'd saved her life.

"Night," she said, and stood, walking over to switch off the light, before finding her own bed and burying herself in the covers.

* * *

**.Ѻ.**

* * *

_It is past eleven on a Monday night, and Feo finds herself stood on the first floor of a fire escape. The tarmac beneath her is wet from the recent rain and the metal railing is cold under her hands. She crouches down and waits, watching the entrance of the alley like a hawk. She can almost feel Bane's presence. He stands behind her at the other end of the passage, concealed around the corner of the building with the idle motorbike they arrived on._

_The drone of distant traffic and the hiss of wet wheels through water are all Feo hears. The fresh scent of rain and wet tarmac all she smells. Then her ears pick up on the punctual clack of heels and she gently tenses as the sound draws closer._

_A woman enters the alley, tall and slim with long hair. She looks over her shoulder briefly as she strides, a small black bag clutched in her left hand. She is dressed in an all-black suit, a dark mask frames her eyes and there appears to be some sort of horned contraption strapped to the top of her head._

_Selina Kyle. Feo recalls the name Bane had told her no more than an hour ago as they'd exited the sewers. She was a jewel thief, a master of infiltration and safe cracking. Bane needed her to acquire a Billionaire's fingerprints, and what Bane wanted, Bane got. That was something Feo prided herself on._

_She waits until her target has passed under her, then straightens and hops over the railing. Dropping down into the alley below, she would've been soundless if she hadn't landed in a puddle, and immediately Selina greets her with a heeled backward roundhouse to her temple. Feo leans back, narrowly avoiding the whistle of the shoe as it cuts the air in front of her nose. And for a split-second she can smell the dirt and rain Selina has walked through to get here, mixed with the polyester of plush carpeting and polished pine wood of the building she's just infiltrated. Feo dodges backwards again as Selina makes for a right jab, then hops forward, putting her bodyweight behind her punch. The woman deflects it, leaning to the side, and Feo used her own momentum to dance around her, slipping out of range. Her hand goes to her hip to find the gun holstered there, and she pulls back the slide, hoping the metallic schink! would make Selina think twice. It did._

_To lower the risk of being disarmed, Feo keeps the gun close to her body. She holds it at stomach level, but doesn't point it at the woman as she spots Bane emerge from behind the corner of the alley to her right. His hands are hooked over the lip of his bulletproof vest as he ambles over. At the sound of the man approaching, his mechanical breaths echoing through the alley, Selina turns to face him, instantly recognising him as the greater threat._

"_What do you want?" Selina asks, her tone tells them she doesn't want to deal with this right now, while her body fights to hide her tenseness._

_Not wanting to beat around the bush, Bane gets straight to the point. "I have an offer for you, Selina Kyle," he says, "Should you choose to accept, go to this address." He holds out a slip of paper and it flutters in the breeze as Selina keeps her gaze on Bane._

"_What kind of offer?"_

"_Your talented service… in return for a programme I think you're aware of… the Clean Slate."_

_Selina's eyes grow a little bigger and she glances at the paper in his hand. As she does she notices a worn, plaited bracelet tied to the wrist and she thinks it odd for a man like him to wear such a thing. After a long moment, she asks: "Who are you?"_

"_You can call me Bane."_

_She waits another moment, then takes the address. "I'll think about it."_

_Bane simply bows his head and side steps, allowing Selina to make her getaway. She stalks quickly down the alley, eager to leave, and takes a right into a narrow backstreet, the black bag in her hand swinging viciously with each step._

_Feo puts her gun away. "Do you think she will accept Dagget?"_

"_Yes," Bane nods a little and gestures for her to follow him back to the bike. "And if she doesn't, it's just like I said; there are ways of making people do what you want."_

_Feo nods as she keeps pace with him, and now that their mission is over, her mind is once again troubled by the words she heard down in the sewer two days ago._

("I love you.")

_Just the echo of those words in her head make her heart thwack desperately at her sternum, telling her not to think about it. Perhaps if it hit hard enough it would break a rib and get her mind off it._ _She takes a deep breath, her lungs on either side of the muscle inflating and trying to still its hard angry beating. Her breath is shaky, evidence of her heart wrestling in her lungs' grasp. She still cannot believe his words were real. She thinks she cried that night but she can't be sure; her pillow had been damp when she awoke with tears she cannot remember spilling. But she knows Bane has always harboured feelings for Talia. Ever since Feo met the woman she knew of his interest in her. So why does it hurt so much?_

_Bane swings his leg up and sits on the motorcycle. He waits patiently for Feo as she stops before him, her eyes trained on the bracelet she made for him fifteen years ago as it peeks out from under his jacket sleeve. Her lips twitch, then she moves to sit between his legs and rests her hands on the leather beneath her, finger tips brushing the metal around it._

_The curve of the seat and the distance between Bane and the bars meant Feo leaned back into him, and he forwards into her as he starts up the engine. As though rudely awakened from sleep, the bike grunts and growls into life before relaxing for a moment, it's grumbling low and vibrating through Feo's thighs and palms. Soon it will be warm, and it will feel like sitting atop a living beast - something big and powerful and fast. She loves this bike because it reminds her of Rusty, the beat up Harley Davidson she and Bane used to ride, sitting just as they are now. Those days spent under the sun, speeding along dusty highways with the wind in her ears, while Bane's broad chest was felt ever presently at her back, were some of the best times she thinks she's ever had. And their long past memory almost brings a tear to her eye._

_She swallows and leans further into Bane as he revs the engine and slowly pulls out of the alley._

* * *

**.Ѻ.**

* * *

Feo thought the growling roar that came from around the corner of the Hotel was a caged lion passing by with its circus convoy. But, as she stood squinting in the sun in the middle of the dusty courtyard, Bane's bag and her own dumped at her feet, she was surprised to find it was actually a motorcycle as Bane himself eased it through the gateway and pulled up beside her.

It was huge, and that was all Feo could think about it for the first few seconds before she took a step forwards. Her hand reached out to brush the rusted metal and she felt the bike hum at her touch, warm with the promise of freedom beneath her palm. Unable to explain it, Feo felt an extraordinary sense of anticipation then; that this bike would take her to a better place, where she could live the life she wanted. Sunny days and warm winds ahead. Wherever it was Bane went, she would go.

"Rusty," she mused as she smoothed her hand over the rough, bumpy metal again.

Bane gave a one shouldered shrug. "It was the best I could get with half my contracts proceeds," he said, "Besides, I'm tired of walking everywhere."

It was rare for Bane to complain about anything, but Feo found herself agreeing with him. The amount of blisters she'd had since meeting the guy was unbelievable.

With difficulty, she clambered up onto the worn and thread-y leather seat, sitting between Bane's legs as he reached down to haul up their bags. He swung his own onto his back and handed Feo hers so she could hold it in her lap, then he handed her a map.

"You said you are good with navigation. Why don't you get us to our next destination?" he said as he revved the engine.

Feo stared at the map, a funny look on her face as she realised what Bane said had rhymed, then glanced over her shoulder at the hulking man. "Can't you read a map?"

The question threw him off for a second. "Of course I can," he said, shooting her a sharp look. "This is for your benefit; from now on, you will be our navigator. Besides, providing you don't get us lost, it'll save us time in the long run."

Feo blinked up at him, then nodded. "Okay then, where to?"

* * *

_I now have a picture of Feo up on DeviantART! You can find the link on my profile._

_Tell me your thoughts and queries; I'd love to know what you think!_


	6. Chapter 6

_The Dark Knight Series_ © **Christopher Nolan  
**_Fire in the Blood _© **Hurlstien**

Warning: short description of gore ahead.

* * *

Static crackled from the small battery powered radio in Feo's hands as she twisted the dials, trying to find an English station both she and Bane could understand – though the man could speak many languages, including Spanish, Persian and Latin, he could not speak Turkish. So it had been a rather frustrating and drawn out affair for Bane trying to converse and haggle with the man who let them hire his small tug boat. Though his imposing size and mask helped with the transaction.

"How long do we have the boat for?" Feo asked, hitting the side of the radio as a voice buzzed in and out of range before fizzling out completely. She was stood in the shadow of the Bridge, her bare feet being warmed by a square of sun-soaked floor from the window as the Tug bobbed gently in the river surf.

"Until we reach a place called Ağin," said Bane, crouching beside their bike he'd chained to the Hydraulic Pins at the back of the boat. "There, a man named Kadem will meet us on the dock. We return the boat, and he returns my card details, plus deposit."

Two weeks ago they had passed Turkey's border, leaving the red crosses of Georgia behind. It had been strange for Feo, leaving the only place she'd ever known, the place she'd lived with her father. She didn't know how to feel about it, but decided that it ultimately didn't matter; she was with Bane now, and with him was where her life was headed. They had ridden the Harley Davidson, now dubbed Rusty, all the way to Kemaliye, where Bane procured a ride down river. They'd left that night.

Feo banged the radio again. "Why are we going by boat, anyway?"

Bane remained crouched by the bike as he took out a screw driver and began to unscrew the license plate. "There's a chance we were being followed."

Feo squinted at him. "By who?"

"The CIA, I believe."

"What is… the C-I-A?"

"Central Intelligence Agency."

Feo frowned; that didn't really answer her question, but she decided not to press. She turned the tuner to the right. The radio crackled. "Why are we being followed by them?"

He glanced at her briefly, then gave the screwdriver a good twist, freeing the bolt. "If they were following us, I can only assume they are after me for a siege I took part in early last year. I spotted evidence of them three days ago."

Feo's head came up. "A siege?"

Bane nodded, pulling the screw loose and starting on the next one. "Consequences from a past life." He didn't look at her.

"Is that why we left in the middle of the night?"

"Yes." He nodded again. "And I do believe we've lost them."

"Really?"

"For now."

Feo frowned again, but visibly jumped when a voice she understood crackled into clarity, then smoothed out through the speaker.

–_take a look at my girlfriend, she's the only one I got–_

The girl cocked her head, then, deciding she liked the tune lilting out into the sun, put the radio down on the warm floor of the boat and sat beside it. She grabbed her bag and pulled it to her side as she took out the can of coke, flannel and straw she'd stashed in there before they set out during the dark hours of the morning. But as she picked out the flannel, her hand brushed on the gun Bane had given her. She hadn't touched it since he'd first shoved it into her hands, but now her fingers curled around the grip and took it out into the warmth.

Light bounced from the barrel as Feo turned the weapon over and over in her hands, finger tips caressing the cool metal. She didn't notice Bane look up when its shine caught his eye.

"Bane? …What happens when you shoot someone?"

"… That depends," he said.

"On what?"

"On where you shoot them," he returned to unscrewing the license plate. "How big they are, how old they are, whether they're male or female and how they handle themselves during a crisis can all have an effect on whether or not they survive." He paused and noticed the girl's eyes were clamped on him. "For example, if you shoot someone in the foot, they have a better chance of surviving compared to someone shot in the head."

"Oh." Feo looked down at the gun again.

"The exit wound is always bigger than the entry wound, do you know why that is?" Bane asked.

Feo hesitantly shook her head. Did she want to know?

"When the bullet hits the body, it creates a shockwave and slows down. That means it has to push that much harder the further it travels, resulting in a far more devastating exit. If someone is shot under their collar bone, their entire shoulder will be blown out… It's certainly not like in the movies." He said as Feo watched him steadily. "And then there are times when the bullet will hit bone, and instead of breaking though, will bounce off, destroying the tissue around it and changing its course, tumbling through the body, creating even more destruction. If I were shot here," he pointed to the lower right of his chest, "the bullet may exit here," he pointed to the thick muscle of his opposite shoulder.

"That is… weird."

"But true." He said. "You should only point a gun at someone if you truly intend to kill them."

Feo was silent. Then she looked down at the gun as it turned in her hands.

"Likewise, do not advertise the fact that you have a gun, unless you need to," he said, unscrewing the second bolt. "You don't have to point the muzzle at someone to make them think twice."

She nodded again and placed the gun back in her bag.

–_take a jumbo, across the water– like to see America–_

She picked up her flannel and stood to lean over the side, dunking it into the frothing water before wringing it out tightly and placing it on her head. As Bane prized the license plate off the back end of Rusty he sent her an odd look.

She shrugged as water dripped onto her tanned shoulders and seeped into her thin tank. "Too hot."

Bane huffed and stood to toss the plate into the river. He checked the boats course before sitting down across from Feo, who cracked her can of coke, poked the straw through the top and copied the way Bane sat, one knee bent, the other laying straight. The radio's DJ kicked in as the pair just sat and soaked up the heat.

–_nd that was Supertramp with Breakfast in America… Next, we have lined up–_

"Bane is a weird name," mused Feo, as she sucked her straw and savoured the bubbling burn that cooled her throat.

"As is _Feo_."

She looked thoughtful for a second, then nodded. "… Bane is weirder."

The man huffed a laugh. "Did you know 'Feo' means 'Ugly' in Spanish?"

"What?" The dismay in her voice was thicker than an ice float, and the look on her face was priceless. Bane only nodded, the mask hiding his wide smile as Feo looked down at her coke can. "Hans– my father, he… It was his last name. Feore. It's a medieval German name meaning The Fire Maker… but I prefer Feo."

Bane nodded slowly. "Ugly."

"I'm not ugly!"

His eyes were creased at the corners and Feo knew he was teasing her. But the knowledge didn't stop her cheeks from burning. "So what does Bane mean?"

"It is a Laotian name meaning Long-awaited Child."

Feo smiled. "You mean like the bringer of end times?"

Bane shook his head loosely. "I wouldn't say that… I have no such ambition."

A smooth guitar and bass eased out of the radio.

"So then, what is your ambition?"

He looked at her. "Knowledge."

"Of what?"

He was silent for a moment. "Certain things… but I've always wanted to learn." Growing up in The Pitt, Bane understood from an early age that any knowledge he could get his hands on was worth more than gold. It was this that shaped his mind, made him say and teach the things he did to his charge. "I've told you before, _Feore_; knowledge is power. Train your body, yes, but do not forget your mind." Bane's eyes left hers to lose their focus above her head, his amplified breathing mixing with the rushing of the water as Feo thought back to the night she helped stitch him up. Knowledge would give her the power to save him if she ever needed to.

–_insanity it seems… has got me by my soul to squeeze–_

Almost a minute passed before Feo twitched her lips. "Bane?" he blinked. "What happened to you before all this?"

"Before what?"

"Before meeting me," she paused. "You said you were born in the Caribbean, but… what happened to you between then and now?"

–_you're so polite indeed… well I got everything I need–_

Bane finally looked at her. She'd never had the guts to ask before. Then again, of the few questions she'd asked about his personal life he'd always given a vague answer to. She'd probably just learned not to pry.

"Many things… Does that answer your question?"

Feo looked down at her feet. "No…" She paused. Bane didn't make to respond. "But it doesn't matter." She was frustrated. Her stomach felt like a soup, slowly bubbling on the stove of her torrid guts, her diaphragm the thick congealed skin on top. But she chewed at her bottom lip and said no more. And although she thought she'd hidden her true feelings well, Bane could sense her annoyance. Though, he knew she wasn't about to press him. She respected him too much.

Feo put her can down and stood to lay herself out on the wide barrier separating the boat from the water. She dropped her right arm over the side and let her fingers slide through the river as she turned her head to look at Bane and smile at him. She closed her eyes at the sensation as the cold water clashed nicely with her baking back.

–_where I go I just don't know, I might end up somewhere in Mexico. When I find my peace of mind… I'm gonna keep you for the end of time.–_

* * *

The inside of a hotel room was now a common sight. Of the months Bane and Feo had been together, whenever they needed money, Bane would take them to the closest town where he would weed out mercenary work and book them into a hotel for the duration of his contract. It was routine. So as they had entered their newest home for the next two months, the pair of them didn't bother unpacking much – not that they had a lot to begin with –, just essentials; toiletries and the most recently bought book.

Feo's English had improved further, and her lust for stimulating material had grown to rival Bane's. She had trouble understanding the more complicated and conceptual subjects, such as religion and politics, and her spelling was atrocious. But her strengths lay in physical things; being able to see and learn through doing suited Feo.

On the last day of his contract, the sun was sinking by the time Bane returned to find Feo laid out on her stomach, a square of dying light resting on her back as she puzzled over the math problems she'd set herself. After the first few months of despising the subject, the girl had come to like working out equations.

"Hey," she said, briefly looking up, her gaze flicking down to the plastic bag in Bane's hand as he ambled over to his bed. "Good day?"

"Same old, same old," he said, setting the bag down and throwing the room keys over to her. They landed between her ribs and the mattress. "I need you to get us more sugar," he said, and reached into his pocket. "Here's the money, and while you're at it…" he paused, handing her the paper notes, seeming to mentally debate something, "why don't you get some… snacks."

Feo raised her head. "Snacks?"

Bane nodded and shrugged. "Something light and edible."

Feo squinted at him briefly – they never had snacks. But instead of questioning, she simply shrugged. She got up, collected the keys and her bag and left the room, calling a: "Be back soon!" over her shoulder.

Feo breezed down the stairs, happy to be up and moving again, and strode out from the air-conditioned lobby into the warm orange streets. She wandered to the left, recalling the location of the store she and Bane had stopped at on their first day in town to buy some water. The last calls of the close by market lifted up through the tall buildings where signs pushed out brazenly, unevenly, calling to people as they walked beneath saying: 'Come here! Come here! You'll find everything you want right here!'. Sleeping cars lined the sides of the cobblestone road, nestled together and resting as they waited for their owners in the shade of the high-rise buildings.

She ducked down an empty back street, enjoying listening to the sounds of families and televisions, of children and dogs and lazy water hoses that drifted from open windows and over tall garden fences.

Navigating through the series of alleys Feo emerged on a busy road and turned left to find the corner shop she'd been aiming for. As she waited in line behind two chatting ladies, a small bag of sugar under her arm, she realised this was probably only the third time Bane had ever let her go anywhere without him. She barely ever left the room whenever they stayed in a hotel, resorting to using the small square of floor space they had to do push-ups, sit-ups, tricep-dips and go through the motions of fighting sequences, while Bane offered criticism and read his latest novel.

She paid for the sugar and exited the shop, crossing the street when she spotted a vendor. Remembering what Bane said about snacks, she bought two simit* from his cart, then found another small shop where she picked out a large bag of salted crisps before heading back. She strolled through the streets, admiring the last warm flares of the sun as it died on the horizon, before taking a right and entering the length of backstreets that would lead her back to the hotel.

She began to hum, sandals slapping the ground merrily as her mind wandered elsewhere. So when the fast thump of footfalls approached from behind, Feo didn't register them until it was too late. Something hard hit the side of her head she fell forwards to her hands and knees. Spinning onto her back, she stared wide eyed at a man with his fist raised – and for a split second she was sucked back to the night in the rain, when Bane had appeared from nowhere and saved her. Except, this time it was different.

Pain was a hammer beating the inside of her skull and she blinked hard, trying to block it out. The man grabbed her by the collar and she struggled as she was yanked to her feet. It was only when he tore her backpack from her shoulders that Feo's brain caught up with the situation, and the training Bane had instilled in her kicked in.

She lashed out with a left jab, catching the brute's cheek, missing his nose and he jerked back, dropping her bag as she swung in for a right hook. In her head she had planned to kick him between the legs, but he caught her forearm in a vice grip before she could land her hit. Fear shocked through Feo as she was yet again forced back into her younger self slumped in the rain.

Through the fear clouding her eyes, she spotted the sharp edge of a knife in his other hand. Light from the sinking sun bounced off the blade and bathed it crimson, as though it were already slicked in blood. It distracted her, and she lost her footing as she was sent sailing backwards onto her bag, the contents of which had spilled out onto the ground. She felt the distinct crunch of crisps beneath her lower back when her eyes caught sight of her gun. She'd never been so glad to see it. Heart leaping into her throat she made a grab for it and snatched it up, pulling back the slide to hear the cold _*shink*_ of metal.

The man hesitated, eyeing the weapon.

Feo's heart hammered her ribs as she stared at him with frowning wide eyes. "If I point this gun at you… I will shoot."

(_do you know what happens when you shoot someone?_)

She must not have sounded very convincing because the next thing she heard was a low Hyena snicker.

"You think," the words had a heavy accent, "that you can shoot me?"

Feo felt the grip of the gun hard in her hands and cool against her palm. She wished she could be like that right then, cold and hard. "… I will."

The snickering grew a little louder and the man brought his knife down to point at her. He said something in Turkish, then: "Just give me all you have, little girl."

Feo swallowed. What would Bane do?

The gun slid against her sweaty fingertips.

(_When your life is danger–_)

Her lip trembled and she whispered: "No."

(_–all is permitted–_)

"Do it!"

(_–even murder._)

"No!"

The man lunged. The cold muzzle rose to meet him, and the gunshot that followed echoed through the empty streets like a roll of thunder.

Feo hadn't gotten used to the sound, and visibly jumped in her spot, before the man fell forwards onto her, pinning her and warming her body with his blood. She was frozen for a second, the thick scent of gun-smoke chocking her nostrils, then a horrid, throaty cry rose from her chest. She thrashed at the body, pushed it off her and scrambled back into the fence. It rattled with her weight. Then she remembered the weapon in her hands and, unable to stop herself, threw it as hard as she could. It smacked the adjacent wall loudly, making her flinch, and immediately she felt bad about it. Bane had given her that gun.

She stayed there, tense and breathing hard while watching the pool of red glisten and seep beneath her attacker's body.

(_the exit wound is always bigger than the entry–_)

She couldn't help her eyes as they travelled to the ragged red site of the bullet's departure. The flesh was knotty and frayed, and hot black blood sputtered out in time to a quivering heart, saturating the torn clothing. A small nugget of off-white bone peeped out from the chunked meat.

(_do you know why that is?_)

She had shot him in the right hip, and the bullet had blown apart the ribs of his left side.

She swallowed again. _'Bane was right.'_

As her heart slowly began to cease its pounding, Feo remembered where she was. She had to move before someone found her like this. She collected up her simit and crushed crisps, piling them into her backpack before crawling over to her gun. More guilt bubbled in her chest when she saw the scratches in the metal and she quickly hid it in her bag. Using her skill for invisibility, she ghosted down the dark streets towards the hotel. The man on reception was too busy dealing with a complaining customer to notice a young girl enter the lobby, spattered in blood, and make her way up the stairs.

Reaching the door, she lightly jabbed the key at the lock, expecting it to go in and missing. On the fifth try it did and she entered the room to see Bane sat on the lip of his mattress, while a small cake rested upon hers.

He didn't yell, or even stand as she stepped in and closed the door. He simply asked: "What happened?"

And she told him: "I killed someone."

* * *

_Sorry for the wait guys! This would've been up sooner, but my internet was down (and I was suffering withdrawal symptoms), but it's all cool now.  
Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please review an' tell me what you think!_

_*Simit – a ring of crusty bread with sesame seeds; commonly eaten in Turkey and Greece as well as a few other countries._

_Song lyrics used in this chapter are from Supertramp's Breakfast in America and Red Hot Chili Pepper's Soul to Squeeze respectively.  
I recommend giving the latter a listen; it's got a lovely mellow feel to it which I felt fit the scene with Bane and Feo on the boat pretty good._


	7. Chapter 7

_The Dark Knight Series_ © **Christopher Nolan  
**_Fire in the Blood_ © **Hurlstien**

* * *

– **7 –**

Feo could only bite her nails incessantly as she sat shivering in front of Bane. She'd told him what had happened while he'd simply listened, and now, she could do nothing but replay the horrid sensation of hot sticky liquid seeping through her shirt to the skin of her belly. The sheet of her bed was wrapped around her shoulders, knees crunched against her chest, and still she quivered. But Bane knew it wasn't from a chill.

"You're alright." Bane said finally, clearing the air of the thick silence that had descended. The words were potent, and sucked him back to the night Talia's mother was murdered – sitting, back against a cold wall, with a small, warm body shaking in his arms. He hadn't had to comfort anyone since and the words tasted odd on his tongue, but powerful nonetheless.

"All those months training," Feo said, biting at her thumb, "and still… I couldn't do anything… I… I had to… resort to…" The skin around her lips tightened and began to tremble.

Bane was silent for a moment. "To combat failure… the only thing you can do, is become stronger."

Feo didn't say anything. Then, she began to cry.

"I'm not like you!" She didn't yell, but her words were propelled by a torrent of strong emotion – she'd only ever wanted to be like him. And Bane knew that emotion was the undercurrent in her sea, dragging her deep into the bowls of a wallowing misery. If she wasn't careful, she'd get stuck. "I'm not built like you; I never will be, I– c-can't…"

Bane didn't know what to do as he watched her, and he was beginning to feel awkward just sitting there. But her sobs quickly turned to sniffles and thick chokes as she tried desperately to tighten the tap on the faucet behind her eyes, and loosen the bolt squeezing her throat.

"The guilt goes away eventually," he said. Though, he knew that for Feo the guilt may never leave. He'd been concerned this would happen, for her to kill someone and be so terrified she'd never pick up a gun again. That she would give up on learning to fight because she didn't want to hurt anyone. It was different for him. Dog eat dog was all he'd ever known. Survival of the fittest, in mind and body. He'd tried to instil at least some of that understanding in Feo as he taught her… but nothing could've prepared her for what she'd done.

He stood up from his mattress, towering over the girl as she shook and sniffed, and his hand lifted her chin. "Do you not wish to live?"

"Wh– What?"

"I said, do you not wish to live?"

Feo didn't quite know how to answer that. "Of course…" She swallowed. "Why… would I not?"

"Then what do you think would have happened had you not pulled the trigger?" His eyes were terribly curious of her answer.

She was silent, then slowly whispered: "But he's dead."

Bane took his hand from her chin and squatted, his gaze now level with hers. "It would've been you." His tone was odd, like he was saying: 'Actually, you could've died.' He took a deep breath. "Why do you think I agreed to train you? …Why did you ask for my help, if you are going to… _shy away_ from the consequences?"

She averted her gaze, and her eyes found his left wrist and the bracelet she'd made for him.

(_"It's a friendship bracelet."_)

But it was more than that. It was a promise to get stronger… strong like him.

"I guess… he deserved it." She sniffed, forced a twitchy smile and whispered: "He was a bit of a git."

Bane watched her with an odd look in his eyes as he slowly nodded. "Good." He took a deep breath as he rose from his crouch. "Now, do you know why there's a cake on the nightstand?"

Feo wiped the last few tears from her eyes with the backs of her knuckles and shook her head. She recalled seeing a cake sat on her bed when she'd walked in, but had promptly forgotten about it in her distress. She looked at it, small and circular, with white frost icing, sat on the bedside table between hers and Bane's beds.

"Your birthday is on the eleventh of November, as I recall you telling me. That's two days from now, but we'll be on the road by then." Bane said, sitting down on his mattress.

He wasn't surprised at the look of confusion and wonder on Feo's face. It was obvious she hadn't expected this from him. But he recalled Talia doing something similar for him back in the Pitt. She'd sharpened the rock he used as a shiv and sang a rough version of Happy Birthday in Arabic to him. He sure as Hell wasn't going to sing Happy Birthday, but he remembered how humbled he'd felt watching that young girl stand before him, hands clasped behind her back as she tried to remember the right words. According to Talia's mother, people did this all the time in The World Above when it was someone's birthday. And just that simple acknowledgement of his aging brought a sense of normality to their dreary existence. He had decided to do the same for Feo, and judging by the evenings events, she needed it now more than ever.

"But first…" Bane glanced to her bent knees behind which lurked sticky bloodstains and clammy skin. "I think you need a shower."

Still sniffling, Feo thanked him and nodded, slowly shifting herself off the mattress and into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later she returned and resumed the same position on her bed she had before. With a butter knife Bane must've pilfered from the hotel kitchen, Feo cut herself a slice and picked it up with a napkin. She offered him some but he declined as he reached for the bag left on his bed behind him.

"And here's some more reading material," he said, passing her a book wrapped in rustling white plastic. "One of the best books I've ever read."

Feo took it out and read the worn cover. "Rita Heyworth and the Shawshank Redemption." She sniffed and glanced down at her slice of cake as Bane stood to make himself a mug of tea. Why did she feel like crying again?

She put the book down, unsure as to whether she'd feel up to anything that required concentration for a while – eating a slice of cake seemed like too much already and she hadn't even started eating yet.

Contrary to Bane's hopes, the presents only managed to distract Feo from the night's horrific events for a short while before she was back to shivering in her blanket again – only this time, the napkin and slice of cake quivered in her hands with her. She picked slowly at the icing as blood-sprayed fences were erected in her mind, walling off any sort of comfort from the likes of books or food. Bars of broken bone formed cell windows, so high she couldn't see out of, as her mind replayed the moment she fired the gun over and over again, like some desperate charity ad. She felt the odd sensation of her finger pressed to the trigger, even now as she tried to nibble her way through her cake like a sickly rabbit. Her hand shook from the strain and she dropped the jam filled sponge back onto the napkin again.

She glanced up to find Bane had now returned to his bed with a mug of tea cooling on the nightstand.

She sighed and put the napkin down, before asking softly: "How old were you when you first killed someone?"

Bane looked up at the question, surprised she'd asked. "Eight years old."

"… Why did you do it?" She wasn't looking at him as she spoke.

"For the same reason as you," he said, "because it was necessary."

* * *

**.Ѻ.**

* * *

–if you're the joke of the neighbourhood, why should you care if you're feeling good? Take the long way home… take the long way home–

_With a moth-thinned woollen blanket wrapped about her knees and surrounded by an overly-bright portable light and cheap, misshapen candles, Feo leans forward and breathes on the metal sides of the motorcycle, then rubs a dirty yellow duster over it. Bored, and with nothing to do, she had wheeled Bane's bike into her square room where nothing but a narrow cot, record player and radio took up space. Under her fold-away bed lies her clothes and a few records she has collected over the years. A box filled with toiletries and books is there too, while her gun is safely tucked beneath her pillow, the tip of its shiny barrel peeking out from the thin, stained cotton._

_A plethora of wrenches and screwdrivers, wire-cutters and a pair of forceps are scattered on the cold concrete by her thighs, no longer needed after her spontaneous DIY MOT. Usually the bikes used by the mercs were dirty and uncared for, but reading books and having Bane teach her what he knew of them throughout her teenage years, Feo had a working knowledge of motorcycles and always made sure Bane's was in good condition._

–you never see what you wanna see, forever playing to the gallery–

_"Take the long way home… you take the long way home," Feo sings along with the old radio and bops her head gently. Her left hand reaches for the freshly opened can of beer and she chugs a gulp. A drop falls and lands on her knee, but alongside all the oil stains and scuff marks on her dungarees, it is barely visible._

_Her hands caress the curving metal of the sub-frame, buffing up a shine. Cleaning this bike always reminds her of Rusty and sun-stained, sand filled half-memories of the place in her life she'd prefer to be, and forever remain. The bubbling feel of laughter burns in her chest as the first time she tried to drive Rusty swims through the shallow puddles of alcohol that wet her mind, when sand and dirt had been kicked up by the back wheel into Bane's face. And then the warmth of his large hands on her thighs follows as she sped them along foreign highways, the heat of the air complimenting that of the bike beneath them, and mixing with the scent of baked earth._

–does it feel that your life's become a catastrophe? Oh it has to be, for you to grow, boy–

_Murmuring voices drift in through the hanging curtain that splits Feo's domain from the rest of the lair. Many of Bane's followers don't have the privilege of their own room, and instead, must bunker down with each other in sleeping bags along the damp hallways or in unused chambers. And with homeless and unemployed men and boys turning up in the sewers looking for work every other day, all bar the chosen few are allowed any privacy._

_But there was a certain group of boys who had made their home just outside Feo's room, and often she would hear them hum along to the music that lilted out from beneath the curtain, and she knew why they were there. Bane didn't seem to understand, but growing up, Feo felt music, not just knowledge, was also power. She was amazed at how it could make her feel when her favourite song happened to soothe through the radio's speakers. It could lift her spirits, make her happy and comfort her all in one go. And it seemed it was the same for the three young boys who spent their nights curled up in sleeping bags just outside her room._

_"So when the day comes to settle down, well who's to blame if you're not around? You took the long way home…"_

_But when muttered whispers are overtaken by a distant explosion Feo's head comes up._

_She looks to her right at the dark purple curtain and the shadow of the corridor that steeps beneath, trying to invade her living space. The boys' murmurs ceased… but no more noises echoed their way. Feo's eyes narrowed and she turned down the radio when the sound of something being dragged crawled in from under the drape. She gets up and lifts the curtain. The three boys are sat against the opposite wall in the dark, and all three know she's there, but their attention is on something else coming toward them down the corridor. The dragging grew louder. Feo steps out from under the drape and looks right at the little T-junction to see Johns and Abe, two of Bane's lesser trained goons, drag a limp body past her._

_She wonders where Barsad is as her feet automatically follow them. She'd known something was happening tonight – though, it wasn't meant to be big. Having a still live man (at least, by the looks of it) be captured and brought down into the heart of their operations sounded like something big, and she wondered if Bane knew about this. Perhaps he'd ordered it?_

_The man stirs and Feo makes out a pair of glasses on his face, along with a receding hairline and moustache. He sluggishly twists his head this way and that, as though he is drunk, then catches the sight of Feo walking after him. He watches her and she him, until the thundering rush of the waterfall signals their destination. Feo's combats squelch along the damp floor after the two mercs, as they drag the man down a short flight of stairs and into the cavernous cistern._

_They find Bane, shirtless and squatting, with his scarred back to them close to his cot, a small fire licking the moist air by his feet. In his hands is a cup of water, and Feo watches his muscles twitch as his fingers clench over the plastic. Barsad appears from behind her, his sniper packed up in his right hand and he places it beside a cluttered desk pushed up to the wall. He catches her eye before they both focus their attention on Johns and Abe as they dump their quarry._

_"Why are you here?" Bane doesn't have to raise his voice for them to hear him over the waterfall; it seems to have an amplifier all on its own. Or perhaps it is the mask? Feo doesn't know, but she doesn't fail to notice the hint of confusion and annoyance in his tone, as well as the tired articulation of a man made weary._

_Johns kicks the body by his feet. "Answer him!"_

_"… I was asking you."_

_Johns, face full of expectation and pride, gestures to the man. "It's the Police Commissioner."_

_Now Bane stands, lightly chucking his cup into a basin of water by his bed and turning to face them, the way he holds himself silently screaming of the controlled raw power coiling beneath his skin. Feo swallows at the sight and is immediately happy she is neither Johns nor Abe. Bane towers over both men and their sudden weight shift paints their nerves neon. His eyes go to the Commissioner on the ground, then flick over Johns and Abe's faces. "And you brought him down here?"_

_Abe refrains from biting his lip and says: "We didn't know what to do. We just thought–"_

_"You panicked," Bane says, "and your weakness has cost the lives of three others."_

_"No, he's alon–"_

_Without even looking away from Abe's face, Bane's hand crushes Johns' windpipe, finishing off his words with a horrid, wet chocking. The body falls to the floor and his head hits the railing as he goes down. Feo doesn't flinch, but her mind instantly replays the time that same hand had gripped her own throat and held her aloft on the stretching plains of Georgian grassland. She swallows again._

_Bane looks to Abe. "Search him, then I will kill you."_

_The terror Abe feels is as easy to see and smell as fresh blood on white linen, and Bane waits, twitching his fingers while the man kneels down and rifles through the Commissioner's pockets. He pulls out some folded paper and hands it to Bane. He then finds a handgun and, oh so reluctantly, passes it to his boss's leather braced right hand as Bane begins to read._

_Feo watches him intently as he turns away from Abe, his eyes shifting back and forth through the words. She glances quickly at Barsad stood to her right, before the sudden movement of the Commissioner catches her eye. Shouts and gunshots explode throughout the chamber, the echo amplifying the din and it makes her jump. She snaps her head round to find the Commissioner gone, having rolled under the railing and into the running water below. The heady scent of burnt metal coils into her nostrils and her ears ring with the dying cries of crumpled bullets. Smoke scarves leak from MP5 and Uzi barrels and Abe turns back to Bane._

_"He's dead."_

"_So show me his body," Bane replied, turning to look at him._

"_That water runs to any one of the outflows," Abe's voice, though unwavering, held in it thick fear and urging. "We'll never find him."_

_Without a word, Bane glances to Barsad and holds out his hand. His second-in-command presses a button on the mobile he draws from his bullet-proof vest, and passes it over. Turning back, Bane slides the phone into the open breast pocket of Abe's jacket and taps it almost mockingly, before saying: "Follow him."_

_Abe frowns and his voice loses any sort of backbone when he says: "Follow him–?"_

_A gunshot cuts him off and his body jerks before falling back over the railing and into the torrent below. Bane turns away, sparing a short glance at both Feo and Barsad before dropping the gun and returning to his bedside._

_Feo's gaze rests on the railing Abe disappeared over, not feeling much for the man's death. If bringing the Police Commissioner down here wasn't part of Bane's orders, then why did they do it? She understood the value of initiative, but bringing someone of such stature and importance down into the center of their plans to witness everything was just plain stupid._

_Barsad casts Bane a weary glance, easily picking up on the subtleties of his boss's foul mood, and leaves. Feo is about to turn and follow suit when Bane calls her name. She turns back and walks over to him as he re-reads the letter in his hands._

"_I need you to do something for me," he says, and puts the letter down to look at her._

"_What is it?"_

"_I'm sure I'm not the only one who has heard sounds." His eyes briefly flick up to the ceiling and Feo knows what he's talking about. Ever since they'd fully moved in to the sewer system four months ago, they'd hear the odd banging, like that of moving machinery, or the muffled echoes of voices permeating the concrete above their heads. "I want to know what's there."_

"_Infiltration." Feo bowed her head._

"_Yes," he nods. "I have a feeling it is at basement level; no map of Gotham shows a building that would offer such sounds…" He pauses. "No one can see you."_

_Feo matches his gaze, and when she does, she sees something she hasn't seen for a very, very long time… reluctance. Her heart trills gloriously and she swallows, holding her ground as he moves closer._

"_Take as much time as you need," he said, and quickly looks her over. "Be careful."_

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed, please leave a review if you did!_

_Song used in this chapter is called Take the Long Way Home by Supertramp – yes, again ;)  
And again, I really think it would add something to the story if you gave it a listen. It's good I swear :D_

_Do tell me if I've slipped up in any of my tenses, by the way, I don't get upset when people correct me, so please don't be shy!_


	8. Chapter 8

_The Dark Knight Series_ © **Christopher Nolan**  
_Fire in the Blood_ © **Hurlstien**

* * *

– **8 –**

_The Bookcase hiding an elevator inside Wayne Enterprises was at long last discovered at half past one on a Friday afternoon. Feo had been sat in the back of a black van, five screens and two laptops in front of her as she'd sipped sluggishly at a fresh Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate. Behind her, the best of Bane's technicians had been busy monitoring six more screens, watching and waiting for some sort of secret passageway to be opened._

_A week before that, Feo had infiltrated the Wayne Enterprises building directly above the sewer cistern, only to discover there was no stairway that led any further down, and neither did any of the elevators have any levels lower than ground floor. So after returning to the sewer, she had procured a number of small cameras, originally provided by Daggett as a means to watch the sewer tunnels and other places of importance. Then, the following night, while dodging security guards and the building's own camera system – which, funnily enough, was lacking in cameras –, she had once again infiltrated the building and proceeded to strategically set up her own cameras in each office that looked to be of some importance. Most were just huge rooms with segregated desks, each with a computer of its own, but there were some that were spacious and minimalistic, decorated with potted plants and fish tanks, slim bodied macs and comfy computer chairs with leather upholstery._

_Each tiny camera she hid wirelessly connected with the screens and laptops set up inside the black van, which was sat hidden in an unused backstreet around the corner. And it was with this equipment Feo had watched as an elderly man on the top floor stood and pressed a button under his desk, before gesturing to a revealed elevator as the bookcase at the side of the room slid back. The gentleman he was with carried with him a black cane and hobbled like a man grown old and weary, yet he looked no older than Bane. Together they had entered the lift and disappeared as the bookcase closed again._

_And so, at a quarter to midnight, dressed in navy jeans, a black, double button jacket and balaclava, Feo enters that same lift and presses the only button it has. The bookcase begins to slide back into place, and her eyes glance to the security camera opposite her while it looks to the furthermost part of the office, making sure it wouldn't suddenly turn and see her, before the door shuts completely._

_There is a light in the lift and it unnerves her as the elevator slows and stops, opening its doors to total darkness. Feo crouches immediately and crawls out into the shadow. She stops a few feet away and uses the lift's light to see columns and a high ceiling. Carts, loaded with bits of machinery, stand lined together, while aluminium tubing is piled in large neat rows, other than this there was plenty of space. The elevator doors shut and she is dowsed in darkness._

_Feo waits for a few more minutes, letting her eyes adjust and listening intently for any signs of someone following her down here, before standing and moving for what she assumes to be a desk to her right. In the gloom she can see the pale of paper and reaches for the mini torch in her pocket as she pulls off the balaclava, hating the way it itches her skin. She skims the documents, the words 'Applied Sciences' standing out, before taking one which consisted of designs for some sort of armoured vehicle._

_She glances at the date and squints. "Nine years ago?"_

_Looking up, she deems it safe enough to aim the small torch at a large dark lump ahead of her. What she finds is roughly what the document in her hand describes, a huge armoured car with light camouflage paintwork._

'This must be some sort of… armoury,'_ she thinks, moving the torchlight around a little more to find another two 'tanks'. _'But there aren't any weapons.'_ None that she can see at least. Either way, she is sure Bane will find this interesting._

_Feeling her task is done; Feo switches off the torch, folds the documents and puts them down the front of her coat, the built in belt keeping them secure against her stomach. She then makes for the elevator, but while she waits for it to descend, a quiet motorised sound catches her attention. She turns her head, eyes wide and searching for anything moving in the dark. Then light floods her form as the elevator doors open. She squints at the sudden brightness, then spots the source of the noise. To her right, and positioned high up on the ceiling, are two security cameras… and one was looking directly at her._

_Her heart thwacked her sternum as she remembered the balaclava in her hand. Haphazardly, she pulls it on as she steps into the elevator and spams the button._

* * *

**.Ѻ.**

* * *

He hadn't screamed in reality, so why did such a horrid shriek fill her ears as she felt warm blood on her stomach? It sounded so frightened, so helpless, that it brought a barrowful of sorrow to her soul. It made her want to cry… Then she realised, the one screaming was her.

Feo bolted upright, not recognising the cream walls of the hotel room. Her heart thumped wildly, eyes wide, as her cry died in her ears. The sheets around her were soaked in sweat and her cropped hair stuck to her scalp. She felt sick and a horrid cramp clutched her gut. For a further moment, instead of cotton, she could only feel hot dirt beneath her clawed fingernails, gun smoke clogged her nostrils, and instead of peeling wallpaper, the crimson sun was still setting behind her eyes.

She swallowed, blinked, then gathered where she was. She took a shaky breath in and immediately looked for Bane. He was in his own bed, just across the small room from her, literally a mere two metres away, and he was watching her, his eyes telling her he'd only just awoken. If it was at all possible, Feo felt he'd grown even bigger since she'd first met him; the single bed seemed too small for him and the mattress beneath his body was sunk considerably.

She swallowed again. "Sorry… Nightmare." Her words came out whispered and trembling, like a film of gauze was sealing off her throat. Her heart was gradually beginning to even, but she was still shivering.

From the pale light cast through the curtains beside the bed, her scrambled mind judged it to be around six in the morning. Only two hours earlier than she usually awoke, but it irked her all the same; like most girls her age, she adored her sleep. But feeling the cold, wet mattress beneath her, she grudgingly decided against any attempt to drift off again. Instead, she forced her legs out from under the covers and made her way to the bathroom.

It had been over a month since she murdered that man, but in her dreams she was stuck there like a broken disk. More often than not, she awoke feeling his hot blood soaking her stomach, and the gunshot she heard at night had become more familiar to her than her own name.

Hot water spurted sporadically from the showerhead a couple of times, before becoming consistent and raining down into the tub, gradually beginning to warm. She held her hand under the water until it heated up to a nice scold, then undressed and stepped in. She scrubbed furiously at her belly until she could no longer feel the blood she couldn't see, then moved on to the rest of her body. Surrounded by steam, her skin was a raw fleshy pink by the time she was done. Her fingers reached up to rub at her short hair, massaging her scalp as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes.

The warmth of the water did well to soothe her beating heart and relax her tense muscles, and once she felt clean again, she heaved a sigh. But the comfortable mood quickly evaporated when she spotted something by her feet, and her eyes looked down to find the water dyed pink.

'_Blood?'_

Her heart hammered as she frowned and turned off the water. A hand went to her stomach.

'_How is that possible? It was over a month ago I–'_

Her eyes followed the pink trail up the inside of her leg, and they grew wider as the trail grew darker.

She dare not move, afraid pain might set in if she did. But when nothing happened she slowly got up the nerve to step out of the tub and cover herself with a towel. She needed help, and the only help she had was still half asleep outside the bathroom.

She swallowed and opened the door. It creaked loudly as she pulled it back enough to peek through. She couldn't see him from her angle, but she had a clear image in her mind. His name rose in her chest but became wedged between her lungs as her cheeks flushed. Her lips opened and closed. She licked and bit them, and tried again.

"Bane?"

A few seconds passed before he grunted tiredly.

She didn't think it possible, but her cheeks burned even more. She couldn't speak.

Outside the door, Bane frowned in his sleepy state. "What is it?"

"I'm…" Feo pursed her lips, took a breath– but let it stick in her lungs, before giving up and breathing it out to try again. "I'm…" She heard him tilt his head on the pillow. She swallowed. "I'm bluh–… I'm bleeding."

"Where?"

She wanted to crack her head on the door.

At her silence, Bane pulled the covers off and sat up. He rubbed his tired eyes for a moment, before standing and approaching the bathroom. Through the crack between the door and wall he could see her. She was biting her lip and refusing to look at him, feet pointing in and knees together. He'd never seen her like this before. He reached up a hand and gently pushed at the wood, but with half her body behind it, it bounced in a fraction, then remained still.

It was purely by chance that he glanced down to see a trail of watery blood slide down the inside of her calf from under the towel.

Ah.

He was silent for a moment, before closing his eyes and Feo looked up at him, a deep blush dying her skin as she stared blankly at his bare chest, something in her own chest tightening to rival the hot embarrassment stinging her veins. Her heart pulsed suddenly. And yet again, her cheeks managed to go up and beyond to bring a whole new shade of red to her face.

He opened his eyes again, Lord knows he wasn't going to enjoy this. "You're fine. Get back in the shower until I return."

And at those words, Feo knew everything was going to be okay.

She nodded and closed the door to lean her back against it and listen to her pumping pulse. Only once the hotel room door shut minutes later did her heart finally begin to cease it incessant pounding. And aside from the residue of humility still searing her flesh, questions popped up uninvited in the barrows of her mind like relentless weeds. Why had her heart raced like that? She had seen Bane shirtless before, many times. They'd been together for almost two years now, so why had she gotten so flustered?

Turning on, and stepping into the shower, she wondered if it had anything to do with being wrapped in nothing but a towel. But surely that didn't warrant her heart to act like that… No, this was something else, something she'd never felt before. Feo sighed and sat down; hugging her knees to her chest as she couldn't help but quietly admit she'd liked it.

* * *

Bane returned twenty minutes later with a bag in hand. He heard the hiss of the shower and knocked on the bathroom door before opening it.

He'd bought her sanitary towels – _only_ sanitary towels –, because there was no way in Hell he was explaining how to use the other sort. He could see her blurred form sat in the tub behind the curtain, her head up at hearing him enter… and to be totally honest, he didn't quite know what to say. For the first time in his life Bane was wary and at a loss for words.

He shook his head, annoyed with himself. "I've brought you something," he said, placing the bag on the toilet seat. "… Just follow the instructions on the packaging." Then he left, unsure of what else he could do.

He returned to his bedside and sat down to run a hand over his head and the strap of his mask. He'd completely forgotten about this. Though it seemed Feo was late in starting, it was an inevitability that had to happen. Change was constant in life, he'd accepted that a long time ago and this would be no different.

When Feo finally poked her head out of the bathroom, she was dry and dressed in a fresh pair of pyjamas. Bane looked at her and watched her blush return with a vengeance. But she steeled herself and forced her feet forwards and towards her bed where she sat herself and hugged her knees. She daren't look at him as he sat still on the lip of his mattress, forearms leaning lightly on his thighs while he studied her. She was tense, only moving to blink and breathe.

"Do not worry; it's natural," he said.

Feo looked at him, surprised. "It happened to you, too?"

Bane stared at her for a moment, unsure of how to react. He was shaken by her lack of understanding, but he realised she probably hadn't had any contact with females for a very long time, if at all – she never spoke of her mother. It shouldn't surprise him that she didn't know anything about what was happening to her.

He coughed, clearing his throat. "No. It's a female thing."

"… Oh."

Taking a deep breath, Bane began to explain that what was happening wouldn't last long, and that it would continue to occur monthly. All the while Feo's face was a bright red. He didn't go into detail; he wasn't a woman and he didn't have the best understanding of the menstrual cycle, but he offered up the basics. And the more he talked, the less Feo's cheeks burned. Bane allowed his voice come out natural, so Feo could tell there was no hidden hilarity behind the mechanical rasps of the mask, no condescension. He talked like he did when he taught her things, when he explained spelling rules and picked apart math problems. And at his ease with the situation, Feo, too, relaxed.

She didn't have many questions, which he found odd, but was thankful for, and as he spoke, he realised she probably didn't have any idea about themes of a more sexual nature either. His heart gave a quiver at that, so he didn't broach the subject – and if fate was kind, he would never have to.

* * *

_I was debating whether or not to include the 'Period thing', but I felt it would not only be realistic, but also good for Feo,  
to be able to feel even more at ease and comfort around Bane after going through something so awkward with him. That, and I thought it would be fun to torture Bane a little.  
Also, there is a double meaning in here somewhere. Have you found it? ;)_

_This chapter is raw from the drawing board, so if you spot any errors don't hesitate to tell me!_


End file.
